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THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


I 


Major-General  B.  V.  Sumner  and  Staff,  1862 

See  facsimile  of  A.  H.  Cushing’s  letter,  facing  p.  40.  From  left  to  right;  Capt  A.  H.  Cushing,  Capt.  L.  Kipp, 
Major  Clarke,  Lieut. -Col.  Joseph  Taylor,  General  Sumner,  Capt.  Sam  Sumner,  Surgeon  Hammond,  and 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Lawrence 


£■  y 8 L 


Wisconsin  History  Commission:  Original  Papers,  No.  3 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

A sketch  of  the  lives  of  Howard  B.,  Alonzo  H. 
and  William  B.  Cushing,  children  of  a pioneer 
family  of  Waukesha  County 


BY  THERON  WILBER  HAIGHT 

Private,  Corporal.  First  Sergeant,  Second  and  First  Lieutenant 
U.  S.  V.,  in  the  War  between  the  States 


WISCONSIN  HISTORY  COMMISSION 
APRIL,  1910 


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Copyright,  1910 

THE  WISCONSIN  HISTORY  COMMISSION 
(in  behalf  of  the  State  of  Wisconsin) 


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DEMOCRAT  PRINTING  CO 


STATE  PRINTER 


Contents 


PAGE 

Wisconsin  History  Commission  ix 

Records  and  Appreciations  xi 

Three  Wisconsin  Cushings: 

A great  New  England  exodus  ...  1 

The  Cushing  Family  in  Western  New  York  . 5 

The  father  of  three  Wisconsin  heroes  . . 8 

From  Milwaukee  to  the  Nemahbins  . . 13 

Removal  to  Chicago  .....  18 

The  mother  in  charge  of  the  family  . . 21 

All  the  boys  established  ....  26 

The  beginning  of  the  War  ....  31 

The  last  year  of  Alonzo’s  life  39 

Later  naval  services  of  William  B.  Cushing  . 58 

William’s  letter  to  his  mother  ...  62 

After  Gettysburg  .....  66 

The  destruction  of  the  “Albemarle”  . . 67 

At  Fort  Fisher  and  afterwards  ...  81 

Howard  Cushing  with  the  Artillery  . . 88 

Transferred  to  the  Cavalry  ....  94 

Death  of  the  young  cavalryman  ...  98 


Index 


105 


Illustrations 


PAGE 

Major-General  E.  V.  Sumner  and  Staff, 

1862  ......  Frontispiece 

Facsimile  of  part  of  letter  by  Alonzo  H. 

Cushing,  1862  . . . . . .40 

Portrait  of  Alonzo  Hersford  Cushing  . . 56 

Portrait  of  William  Barker  Cushing  . . 86 

Facsimile  of  part  of  letter  by  Howard  B. 

Cushing,  August  6,  1863  . . . .88 

Portrait  of  Howard  B.  Cushing  . . .94 

Facsimile  of  part  of  letter  by  William  B. 

Cushing,  May  15,  1871 102 


Erratum 

The  portrait  at  p.  56,  entitled  “Alonzo  Hersford  Cushing,”  is 
that  of  Howard  B.  Cushing. 

The  portrait  at  p.  94,  entitled  "Howard  B.  Cushing,"  is  that 
of  Alonzo  Hersford  Cushing. 


Wisconsin  History  Commission 

(Organized  under  the  provisions  of  Chapter  298, 
Laws  of  1905,  as  amended  by  Chapter  378, 
Laws  of  1907  and  Chapter  445,  Laws  of 
1909) 

JAMES  0.  DAVIDSON 

Governor  of  Wisconsin 

FREDERICK  J.  TURNER 

Professor  of  American  History  in  the  University  of 
W isconsin 

REUBEN  G.  THWAITES 

Secretary  of  the  State  Historical  Society  of  Wis- 
consin 

MATTHEW  S.  DUDGEON 

Secretary  of  the  Wisconsin  Library  Commission 

CHARLES  E.  ESTABROOK 

Representing  Department  of  Wisconsin,  Grand 
Army  of  the  Republic 


Chairman,  COMMISSIONER  ESTABROOK 
Secretary  and  Editor,  Commissioner  Thwaites 
Committee  on  Publications,  COMMISSIONERS  THWAITES 
and  Turner 


[ix] 


RECORDS  AND  APPRECIATIONS 

Howard  B.  Cushing 

Record — Wisconsin.  Private  Co.  B.,  1st  Illinois  ar- 
tillery, March  24,  1862  to  November  30,  1863;  private 
in  B artillery  (regular)  November  30,  1863;  second 
lieutenant,  4th  artillery,  November  30,  1 863 ; transferred 
to  3rd  cavalry,  September  7,  1 867 ; first  lieutenant,  De- 
cember 16,  1867;  killed  May  5,  1871,  in  action  with 
Apache  Indians  in  Whetstone  Mountains,  Arizona. 

Appreciation — “Of  the  distinguished  services  rendered 
to  Arizona  by  Lieutenant  Howard  B.  Cushing,  a book 
might  well  be  written.  It  is  not  intended  to  disparage 
anybody  when  I say  that  he  performed  herculean  and 
more  notable  work,  perhaps,  than  had  been  performed  by 
any  other  officer  of  corresponding  rank  either  before  or 
since.  Southern  Arizona  owed  much  to  the  gallant  offi- 
cers who  wore  out  strength  and  freely  risked  life  and 
limb  in  her  defence;  * * * but  if  there  were  any 
choice  among  them  I am  sure  that  the  verdict,  if  left  to 
those  officers  themselves,  would  be  in  favor  of  Cushing.” 
— John  G.  Bourke,  On  the  Border  with  Croo 
(N.  Y.,  1891),  pp.  106,  107. 


[xi] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Alonzo  Hersford  Cushing 

Record — Wisconsin  and  New  York.  Cadet  at  Mili- 
tary Academy,  July  1 , 1857  (12);  second  lieutenant  and 
first  lieutenant  of  the  4th  artillery,  June  24,  18,61  ; brevet 
captain,  December  13,  1862,  for  gallant  and  meritorious 
service  at  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg,  Va. ; major,  May 
2,  1 862,  for  gallant  and  meritorious  service  at  the  Battle 
of  Chancellorsville,  Va. ; and  lieutenant  colonel,  July  1, 
1863,  for  conspicuous  gallantry  at  the  Battle  of  Gettys- 
burg, Pa.,  where  he  was  killed  July  3,  1863. 

Appreciation — “On  the  field  of  Gettysburg,  more  than 
once  I stood  where  the  brave  Cushing  gave  up  his  life, 
right  at  the  peak  of  Pickett’s  daring  charge.  Oh  that 
day  and  that  hour!  History  will  not  let  that  smiling, 
splendid  boy  die  in  vain;  her  dew  will  glisten  forever  over 
his  record  as  the  earthly  morning  dew  glistens  in  the  fields. 
Fame  loves  the  gentleman  and  the  true-hearted,  but  her 
sweetheart  is  gallant  youth.” — Morris  ScHAFF,  “Spirit 
of  Old  West  Point,”  in  Atlantic  Monthly,  February, 
1907. 

William  Barker  Cushing 

Record — September  25,  1857,  appointed  acting  mid- 
shipman, from  33rd  N.  Y.  district;  March  23,  1861,  res- 
ignation accepted;  April  1,  appointed  master’s  mate  in 

volunteer  navy — served  on  board  the  U.  S.  S.  “Minne- 

[xii] 


RECORDS  AND  APPRECIATIONS 


sota;”  Sept.  13,  resignation  accepted;  Oct.  19,  war- 
ranted as  a midshipman  in  the  navy  from  the  1 st  day  of 
June,  1861  ; Oct.  25,  to  duty  in  North  Atlantic  blockad- 
ing squadron;  March  27,  1862,  detached  from  U.  S.  S. 
“Cambridge”  (sick)  and  leave  of  one  month;  May  14, 
to  the  U.  S.  S.  “Minnesota;”  July  16,  promoted  to  lieu- 
tenant; April  27,  1863,  commissioned;  Sept.  5,  detached 
from  the  “Shockokon”  and  to  command  the  “Monti- 
cello;”  Oct.  19,  1864,  detached  and  to  the  North  At- 
lantic blockading  squadron;  Nov.  22,  again  ordered  to 
North  Atlantic  blockading  squadron;  Oct.  27,  promoted 
to  lieutenant-commander  from  this  date;  Feb.  20.  1865, 
commissioned;  Feb.  24,  detached  from  command  of  the 
“Monticello”  and  wait  orders;  May  1 7,  to  the  navy  yard. 
New  York,  N.  Y. ; June  13,  detached  and  to  the  U.  S. 
S.  “Hartford;”  June  24,  detached  and  to  the  U.  S.  S. 
“Lancaster,”  Pacific  station;  March  1 1,  1867,  detached 
and  wait  orders;  July  5,  to  the  U.  S.  S.  “Quinnebaug,” 
15th  instant;  July  25,  previous  order  revoked  and  to 
command  the  U.  S.  S.  “Penobscot”  when  found;  Oct.  7, 
detached  and  to  command  the  U.  S.  S.  “Maumee;”  Jan. 
19,  1870,  detached  November  12th  last,  and  leave  three 
months  from  13th  instant;  March  30,  to  ordnance  duty. 
Navy  Yard,  Boston,  Mass.,  April  30th;  Jan.  31,  1872, 
promoted  to  commander  from  this  date;  Feb.  2,  to  exami- 
nation; Feb.  9,  detached  and  wait  orders;  May  16, 

[ xiii  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


commissioned;  June  17,  1873,  to  command  the  U.  S.  S. 
“Wyoming”  per  steamer  28th  instant;  June  21,  previous 
order  suspended;  July  11,  to  command  the  U.  S.  S. 

Wyoming;”  April  24,  1874,  detached  and  wait  or- 
ders; April  27,  to  duty  as  assistant  to  executive  officer, 
Navy  Yard,  Washington,  D.  C. ; Aug.  23,  detached 
and  to  duty  as  senior  aid  to  commandant  of  the  Navy 
Yard,  Washington,  D.  C. ; D ec.  1 7,  died  this  day  at 
the  Government  Hospital  for  the  Insane,  Washington, 
D.  C. 

Appreciation — “To  the  Senate  and  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives: In  conformity  to  the  law  of  July  16,  1862, 
I most  cordially  recommend  that  Lieutenant  William  B. 
Cushing,  United  States  Navy,  receive  a vote  of  thanks 
from  Congress  for  his  important,  gallant,  and  perilous 
achievement  in  destroying  the  rebel  ironclad  steamer,  Al- 
bemarle, on  the  night  of  the  27th  of  October,  1864,  at 
Plymouth,  North  Carolina.  * * * This  recom- 

mendation is  specially  made  in  order  to  comply  with  the 
requirements  of  the  aforesaid  act  which  is  in  the  following 
words,  viz. : That  any  line  officer  of  the  Navy  or  Marine 
Corps  may  be  advanced  one  grade  if  upon  recommenda- 
tion of  the  President  by  name  he  receives  the  thanks  of 
Congress  for  highly  distinguished  conduct  in  conflict  with 
the  enemy,  or  for  extraordinary  heroism  in  the  lines  of  his 

profession.  (Signed)  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.” 

[ xiv  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 
A Great  New  England  Exodus 

Beginning  with  the  last  decade  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  and  continuing  through  the  first  de- 
cade of  the  nineteenth,  the  northern  and  western 
borders  of  the  state  of  New  York  were  punc- 
tuated with  settlements  of  a peculiar  people  along 
the  entire  distance,  and  reaching  inland  from  the 
edges  of  the  lakes  and  rivers  along  the  line,  for  a 
number  of  miles.  These  settlements  were  from 
New  England;  but  their  population  differed 
somewhat  from  the  aggregate  of  those  who  were 
left  behind.  Sires  and  sons  of  the  great  emigra- 
tion were,  in  all  their  movements,  much  influenced,, 
no  doubt,  by  the  views  of  their  wives,  mothers., 
and  sisters,  but  the  partiality  of  history  takes, 
notice  only  of  the  former. 

They  were  the  men,  and  the  offspring  of  the 
men,  whose  sturdy  strokes,  supplemented  by  their 
more  delicate  and  elaborate  strokes,  had  turned 

*i  [i] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

New  England  from  a wilderness  into  fertile 
fields  and  flourishing  towns,  but  who  were  not 
permitted  to  reap  the  fruits  of  their  past  endeavors 
in  their  old  homes.  Debts  had  accrued  against 
them  while  they  had  been  helping  fight  the  bat- 
tles of  their  country  in  the  War  for  Independence, 
and  their  creditors  would  not  accept  in  settle- 
ment the  worthless  Continental  currency  with 
which  their  country  had  paid  them  for  their  serv- 
ices and  sacrifices.  In  many  instances  they  found 
their  homesteads  taken  from  them  and  turned  over 
to  lawyers  and  other  professional  men  who  had 
abstained  from  encouragemnt  of  bloodshed  by 
staying  out  of  the  army  in  the  “times  that  tried 
men’s  souls.”  The  returning  soldiers  were  dis- 
gusted and  amazed  by  what  looked  to  them  like 
a less  tolerable  condition  than  that  which  they 
had  opposed  of  late  with  powder  and  ball. 
Within  a very  few  years  all  this  feeling  cul- 
minated in  a rebellion  against  the  government — 
and  particularly  the  judicial  branch  of  the  gov- 
ernment— of  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  led  by 
one  Daniel  Shays,  who  had  attained  the  rank  of 
captain  in  the  Continental  forces  in  active  service. 

[2] 


THE  WESTWARD  MOVEMENT 

When  this  uprising  was  suppressed,  as  in  less 
than  a year  it  was,  an  exodus  of  the  dissatisfied 
classes  began  and  continued  as  people  could  get 
ready  for  their  passage  over  the  Hudson  and  into 
the  wilderness  of  what  was  then  the  Far  West, 
reaching  by  way  of  the  Mohawk  Valley  even  to 
Lake  Erie  itself,  and  up  the  eastern  shore  of 
Lake  Ontario  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  Washington 
Irving  was  evidently  familiar  with  the  appear- 
ance of  such  migrations  from  early  boyhood,  and 
gives  a lively  picture  in  his  Knickerbocker’s  Hist- 
ory of  New  York  (though  somewhat  distorted 
for  purposes  of  burlesque  entertainment),  of  the 
way  in  which  the  Yankees  moved  westward,  ac- 
companied by  their  families,  and  with  all  their 
belongings  packed  away  in  covered  wagons 
drawn  by  jaded  horses  or  toiling  oxen. 

The  History  was  published  in  1809,  when 
Irving  was  twenty-six  years  old;  but  it  is  not  prob- 
able that  he  had  observed  among  the  immigrant 
wagons  passing  his  father’s  house,  the  young  ship- 
carpenter,  Zattu  Cushing,  who  attained  his  ma- 
jority in  1791,  and  soon  after  left  his  native  home 
at  Plymouth,  Mass.,  reaching  the  neighborhood 

[3] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

of  Ballston  Spa,  New  York,  before  1795,  the 
year  of  his  marriage  there  to  Miss  Rachel  Buck- 
ingham. 

It  seems  most  likely  that  the  trip  from  Ply- 
mouth to  the  headwaters  of  the  Hudson  was  en- 
tirely by  water;  the  young  man’s  relations  with 
seafaring,  together  with  the  frequency  of  coast- 
wise voyages  from  the  eastern  ports  of  the  old  Bay 
State,  would  naturally  have  led  him  to  prefer  that 
route.  From  the  time  of  his  marriage  until  1 799 
neither  tradition  nor  record  points  out  the  charac- 
ter or  direction  of  his  movements.  In  the  last- 
mentioned  year  he  is  said  to  have  been  superin- 
tending the  construction  of  a ship,  the  “Good  In- 
tent,” at  the  island  opposite  Erie,  Pennsylvania, 
although  his  residence  at  the  same  time  was  in  the 
town  of  Paris,  a few  miles  south  of  Utica,  New 
York.  On  his  return  home  from  Erie  he  took 
back  a team  of  horses,  perhaps  the  fruit  of  his 
ship-building  on  the  lake.  The  horses  claim  a 
a place  in  history  on  account  of  the  escape  of  one 
of  them  in  the  neighborhood  of  Dunkirk,  and  the 
camping-out  of  the  owner,  while  searching  for  it. 


[ 4 1 


AT  FREDONIA 


on  the  site  of  the  village  of  Fredonia,  his  home  in 
subsequent  years. 

The  Cushing  Family  in  Western  New  Y orJi 

It  was  not  until  1 805  that  the  young  man  finally 
settled  at  Fredonia,  bringing  with  him  his  wife 
and  five  children,  of  whom  Milton  Buckingham, 
bom  in  1800,  was  to  become  the  father  of  per- 
haps the  most  conspicuously  daring  trio  of  sons  of 
one  mother  of  any — not  excepting  the  Roman 
Horatii  or  Judean  Maccabees — whose  exploits 
have  been  noted  in  the  pages  of  history.  For,  in 
the  days  of  early  champions,  personal  strength  and 
dexterity  counted  for  so  much  in  battle  that  it  did 
not  appear  very  extraordinary  for  Walter  Scott’s 
“Fitz- James”  to  set  his  back  against  a rock  and 
defy  a whole  tribe  of  armed  Highlanders  to  a 
close  contest.  The  more  modem  fighting  man 
can  not  see  the  death  that  he  hears  whistling  and 
humming  about  his  head  in  the  vicious  flight  of 
bullets;  or,  tearing  the  atmosphere  apart  by  means 
of  shell  that  burst  into  whirring  fragments  of  cast- 
iron,  destroying  everything  they  touch,  whether 
animate  or  inanimate.  He  has  to  be  ready  for 

[51 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


his  fate,  which  may  be  handed  out  to  him  at  any 
instant  without  the  possibility  of  resistance  or  es- 
cape. 

The  journey  from  Oneida  County  was  made  in 
the  early  winter  by  ox-sleighs,  and  must  have 
taken  several  days,  perhaps  running  into  weeks,  as 
the  route  led  the  emigrants  to  Dunkirk  by  way  of 
Buffalo  and  the  frozen  waters  along  the  Erie 
shore.  While  spending  one  night  on  the  ice,  a 
little  way  off  shore,  a thaw  came  on,  in  company 
with  a strong  east  wind,  and  the  party  had  some 
difficulty  in  reaching  land.  Fredonia  is  only  three 
or  four  miles  inland  from  the  port  of  Dunkirk,  and 
the  family  soon  found  themselves  domiciled  in  the 
log  hut  which  in  those  days  almost  always  served 
as  the  temporary  shelter,  at  least,  of  the  first  occu- 
pant of  a tract  of  land  in  the  backwoods  of  New 
York. 

The  Cushings  were  evidently  well-thought-of 
by  their  neighbors,  so  the  former  ship-carpenter 
soon  received  the  appointment  of  associate  judge 
of  the  Niagara  County  court.  It  may  seem  rather 
odd  at  present  that  this  position  should  have  been 
conferred  upon  a layman;  but  the  experience  at 

[6] 


AN  UNTRAINED  JUDGE 


their  old  homes  of  the  emigrating  New  England- 
ers had  been  such  that  they  retained  strong  preju- 
dices against  regularly-trained  members  of  the 
learned  professions.  They  were  quite  generally 
inclined  to  prefer  the  illiterate  exhortations  of  re- 
vivalist ministers  to  the  teachings  of  such  clergy- 
men as  were  accounted  orthodox  in  the  Eastern 
states;  to  consider,  home-bred  lawyers  as  more 
likely  to  strive  for  the  triumph  of  justice  than 
those  who  had  devoted  their  lives  to  the  study  of 
technicalities ; and  even  in  respect  to  medical  prac- 
titioners, the  self-taught  empiric  was  as  likely  to 
achieve  a financial  success  among  them  as  would 
be  the  graduate  of  a long-established  medical 
school. 

That  the  choice  of  Mr.  Cushing  as  a judge  was 
approved  by  the  people,  became  evident  when 
Chautauqua  County  was  set  off  from  Niagara. 
In  1811,  Judge  Cushing  took  the  place  of  presid- 
ing judge  in  the  new  organization,  and  held  it  for 
fourteen  years.  In  1826,  after  the  opening  of 
the  Erie  Canal,  the  judge,  in  company  with  other 
citizens  of  Fredonia,  built  a boat  for  traffic  on  the 
new  waterway,  and  had  it  hauled  over  the  three 

[71 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

miles  between  Fredonia  and  the  lake,  by  ox- 
teams;  there  were  said  to  have  been  about  a hun- 
dred in  the  string.  The  jurist  therefore  did  not 
retire  from  the  activities  of  life  on  retiring  from  the 
bench ; he  found  somewhat  with  which  to  occupy 
himself  until  his  death  in  1839,  respected  and 
honored  by  the  community  where  he  lived. 

The  Father  of  Three  Wisconsin  Heroes 

In  the  meantime  his  son  Milton  had  grown  to 
maturity,  had  taken  the  degree  of  doctor  of  medi- 
cine after  a classical  course  of  study  at  Hamilton 
Literary  and  Theological  Institute,  not  far  from 
the  early  boyhood  home  of  the  student — a school 
founded  in  1 820,  and  now  become  Colgate  Uni- 
versity. The  duties  of  a physician  were  too  ex- 
acting for  his  own  health,  however.  After  a 
few  years  of  practice  at  Zanesville,  Ohio,  where 
he  married  his  first  wife,  he  became  a local  mer- 
chant, and  in  1833,  when  the  wife  died,  was  the 
father  of  four  children,  none  of  whom  long  sur- 
vived their  early  manhood  or  womanhood. 

Not  long  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Cushing,  Dr. 
Cushing  removed  his  business  and  home  to  Co- 

18] 


REMOVAL  TO  WISCONSIN 


lumbus,  where  in  1836  he  married  Miss  Mary 
Barker  Smith  of  Boston,  who  was  visiting  in  the 
West  at  the  time.  She  was  then  29  years  old, 
of  splendid  physical  and  mental  constitution,  and 
fortunately  endowed  with  a passionate  love  for 
life  in  an  open,  free  atmosphere,  as  near  as  prac- 
ticable to  nature  itself. 

After  the  birth  of  their  eldest  son,  named  for 
his  father,  in  1837,  the  young  couple  prepared  for 
their  removal  into  the  far  west  of  Wisconsin, 
where  the  Potawatomi  still  fished  and  hunted, 
and  whence  the  Sauk  leader,  Black  Hawk,  had 
recently  been  driven.  Neither  documentary  evi- 
dence nor  tradition  show  the  manner  of  travel  of 
the  young  couple — whether  through  the  prairies 
of  Indiana  and  Illinois,  and  down  the  east  shore 
of  Lake  Michigan,  or  by  sailing  vessel  around 
through  the  straits  of  Mackinac.  Either  of  the 
two  routes  was  then  available,  and  neither  was 
especially  dangerous. 

What  seems  certain  is,  that  on  the  22nd  of 
August,  1838,  Howard  B.  Cushing,  the  eldest 
of  the  three  Wisconsin-born  members  of  that 
family,  first  saw  the  light  at  Milwaukee.  Nine 

[9l 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


days  previous  to  the  event,  Mrs.  Cushing  was  im- 
pressed with  the  presentiment  of  death,  and  wrote 
in  her  Bible  the  verses  following,  under  the  head- 
ing, “To  Milton,  with  the  Legacy  of  his 
Mother  s Bible.”  1 

I have  no  gold,  my  darling  son. 

No  wealth  to  leave  to  thee  — 

Yet  never  light  hath  shone  upon 
A richer,  costlier,  holier  one 
Than  this  my  legacy; 

“Bought  with  a price,”  this  guide  of  youth  — 

And  gemmed  with  wisdom,  light,  and  truth. 

Should’st  thou  live  on  through  many  years, 

Of  pilgrimage  below. 

Full  well  I know  that  earthly  fears 
And  human  woe  and  human  tears. 

Attend  the  path  thou’lt  go. 

And  that  thy  soul  may  well  endure  — • 

Drink  deeply  of  this  fountain  pure. 

Farewell,  my  son!  perchance  through  grace 
We’ll  meet  again  above  — 

Thine  infant  memory  may  not  trace 
Thy  mother’s  form,  thy  mother’s  face; 

But  O,  that  mother’s  love 
Burns  deep  for  thee,  my  first-born  child! 

Cod  f^eep  thy  spirit  undefiled! 

' E.  M.  H.  Edwards,  Commander  William  Barker  Cushing 

N.  Y.,  1898),  pp.  22,  23. 


EARLY  MILWAUKEE 


If  this  is  to  be  understood  as  an  indication  of 
despondent  gloom,  on  the  part  of  the  writer,  it  is 
the  only  one  left  by  this  conspicuous  exemplar  of 
fine  American  womanhood.  In  later  years,  as 
will  appear  in  these  pages,  she  was  obliged  to  un- 
dergo privations  more  difficult  to  encounter  than 
those  of  a residence  at  the  confluence  of  the  Mil- 
waukee and  Menomonee  rivers — then  a forlorn 
waste  of  swamps  and  hills,  that  looked  as  though 
they  would  successfully  defy  the  efforts  of  man 
for  transformation  into  the  fairest  of  the  cities 
along  the  shores  of  the  Great  Lakes. 

In  1838  the  little  village  contained  not  more 
than  about  eight  hundred  inhabitants,  and  these 
were  divided  by  Milwaukee  River  into  two  hos- 
tile camps,  whose  differences  were  always  appar- 
ently on  the  point  of  breaking  out  into  actual  vio- 
lence. The  stream  was  still  unbridged,  and  it 
seemed  likely  that  this  watery  frontier  would  long 
remain  a boundary  line  as  fixed  as  that  of  the 
Rh  me  in  Europe.  Mrs.  Cushing  had  been 
reared  among  the  most  highly-cultivated  people 
of  Boston,  and  was  related  to  such  distinguished 
families  as  the  Adamses,  Hancocks,  and  Phil- 

[ ii  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

lipses.  It  was  not  at  all  strange,  therefore,  that 
with  three  or  four  children  of  her  husband  by  a 
former  wife  to  care  for,  besides  her  own  baby  of 
sixteen  months,  she  should  have  been  attacked  by 
the  nostalgia  that  has  often  dragged  grown  men  to 
untimely  graves. 

It  was  an  evidence  of  the  strength  of  character 
of  this  city-bred  lady  that  she  so  soon  recovered 
her  elasticity  of  spirit  after  the  birth  of  Howard, 
and  again  faced  the  hardships  of  frontier  life  as 
fearlessly  as  her  sons  faced  death  in  the  cam- 
paigns of  the  great  Civil  War.  It  must  have  been 
soon  after  her  convalescence  that  she  paralleled 
the  shout  of  Hannibal’s  soldiers,  “Beyond  the 
Alps  lies  Italy!”  with  the  thought,  at  least,  that 
beyond  the  Menomonee  marshes  lay  a country  re- 
sembling in  aspect  the  most  carefully  tended  Eng- 
lish parks,  but  swarming  with  more  delicious  and 
satisfying  game  of  earth,  water,  and  air  than 
could  be  found  in  any  open  hunting  grounds  of 
Europe.  This  was  the  country  of  the  “oak  open- 
ings,” extending  for  scores  of  miles  to  the  west- 
ward, and  jeweled  with  lovely  lakelets,  from  Pe- 
waukee  to  beyond  the  “Four  Lakes,”  between 

[ 12  ] 


MIGRATION  TO  DELAFIELD 

two  of  which  latter  was  to  rise  the  capital  of  the 
nascent  state. 

From  Milwaukee  to  the  Nemahbins 

In  1838  there  was  no  elaborate  road  between 
Milwaukee  and  Waukesha,  but  the  intervening 
twenty  miles  presented  no  serious  obstacles  to 
travel.  A pioneer  woman  who  made  the  trip 
that  year,  Mrs.  Talbot  C.  Dousman,  wrote  of  it' 
that  her  pen  was  inadequate  to  a description  of 
the  beautiful  scenes.  The  prairie  grasses  stood 
as  high  as  the  horses’  knees,  and  thick  with  lovely 
flowers.  Often,  says  she,  “we  found  ourselves 
looking  about  for  the  house  belonging  to  these 
beautiful  grounds;  but  it  was  emphatically  ‘God’s 
country,’  without  sight  or  sound  of  human  habita- 
tion, from  the  house  where  we  dined  [in  the  pres- 
ent town  of  Brookfield]  till  we  reached  our  home 
in  the  woods,  thirty  miles  from  Milwaukee.” 

The  route  taken  by  the  Paddock  family,  and 
thus  depicted  by  one  of  its  daughters,  passed  the 
site  of  Waukesha  rather  more  than  a mile  north, 


2 History  of  Waukesha  County , Wis.  (Chicago,  1880), 
pp.  473,  474. 

[ 13  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

and  ended  not  far  from  the  subsequent  home  of 
the  Cushings.  Indeed,  it  was  most  probably  fol- 
lowed by  the  Cushings  early  in  1 839,  and  one 
may  feel  no  hesitation  in  believing  that  the  latter 
breathed  in  with  delight  the  clear,  sweet  atmos- 
phere of  the  “openings,”  as  they  passed  from  hill 
to  hill,  skirting  the  south  shore  of  Pewaukee  Lake 
and  the  southern  point  of  Nagawicka,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  magnificent  semi-mountain  of  Wis- 
consin’s Kettle  Range,  and  then  into  the  charming 
valley  surrounded  by  lakelets  and  now  occupied 
by  the  beautiful  little  village  of  Delafield. 

At  that  time  there  was  no  obstruction  to  the 
free  flowage  of  Bark  River  from  Nagawicka  to 
the  upper  Nemahbin,  two  miles  to  the  westward. 
The  site  of  the  log  cabin  chosen  by  Dr.  Cushing 
is  about  half  way  between  those  lakes,  and  only 
a few  rods  north  of  the  river.  It  may  still  be 
recognized  by  travellers  on  the  interurban  trolley, 
by  means  of  two  beautiful  elm  trees  across  the 
river,  from  a point  half  a mile  west  of  the  trolley 
station  at  Delafield.  Less  than  a mile  farther 
north,  are  the  buildings  of  the  Nashotah  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  some  of  which  are  also  visible 

[Hi 


DR.  CUSHING 


from  the  electric  road.  Then,  however,  oak 
openings  extended  north  and  south  without  visible 
termination.  It  was  an  ideal  place  for  rest  from 
the  busy  employments  of  the  world,  and  Mrs. 
Cushing  long  afterwards  said  that  her  sojourn 
there  was  the  happiest  period  of  her  life. 

Almost  immediately,  Dr.  Cushing  took  a 
prominent  place  in  this  community.  Appointed 
justice  of  the  peace,  he  made  the  first  entries  in 
his  docket  February  1 5,  1840,  in  a case  tried  be- 
fore him,  between  G.  S.  Hosmer,  plaintiff,  and 
Russell  Frisby,  defendant.  What  is  now  the 
township  of  Delafield  was  then  the  south  half  of 
the  town  of  Warren,  but  it  was  the  next  winter  set 
off  by  an  act  of  the  legislature  under  the  name  of 
Nemahbin,  and  Dr.  Cushing  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  new  municipal  organization  as  chair- 
man of  its  first  board  of  supervisors.  The  town 
meeting  at  which  he  was  elected  was  held  Janu- 
ary 5,  1842,  at  the  schoolhouse;  and  over  it  pre- 
sided George  Paddock,  whom  we  have  already 
noted  as  guiding  his  daughter  to  this  locality. 

More  than  two  years  before,  on  December  28, 
1 839,  a second  son  had  been  born  to  Mrs.  Cush- 

[i5l 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


ing  and  her  husband,  and  named  Walter.  The 
date  of  the  death  of  this  child  is  not  preserved,  but 
he  could  not  have  outlived  very  early  childhood, 
since  the  burial  place  was  on  the  farm  from  which 
the  parents  removed  within  the  next  five  years. 

Alonzo  was  also  born  on  the  Delafield  farm, 
as  shown  by  a family  Bible  lately  brought  to  light. 
Until  this  discovery  his  birth  had  been  credited  to 
Milwaukee,  like  that  of  his  elder  brother, 
Howard.  He  was  bom  on  January  19,  1841 . 

Neither  store  nor  postoffice  had  yet  been  estab- 
lished in  the  little  hamlet,  nor  was  either  of  those 
conveniences  to  be  found  there  for  more  than  two 
years  afterward.  The  original  Hawks’s  tavern 
was  built  and  opened  to  the  public  in  1 840,  and 
was  deemed  a great  blessing  by  immigrants  on 
their  way  westward  along  the  lately-cleared  Ter- 
ritorial Road;  but  there  were  no  table  supplies  to 
be  found  on  sale  nearer  than  Prairieville  (now 
Waukesha),  a dozen  miles  back  towards  Mil- 
waukee. 

The  year  1842  was  an  eventful  one  for  the 
frontier  township  of  Nemahbin,  since  in  the  early 
part  of  the  summer,  a milldam  was  built  at  the 


[16] 


BIRTH  OF  WILLIAM 


outlet  of  Nagawicka  Lake,  while  not  long  after  a 
gentleman  named  Delafield  arrived  there,  pur- 
chased the  water  power  and  its  improvements,  and 
erected  a flouring  mill  where  the  village  mill  has 
ever  since  been  a conspicuous  figure  in  the  land- 
scape. But  of  far  greater  importance  was  the 
birth,  in  the  cabin  north  of  the  river  of  which  we 
have  already  spoken,  on  November  4,  of  that 
later  glory  of  the  American  navy,  William 
Barker  Cushing. 

As  Dr.  Cushing  s first  wife  died  in  1833,  it 
follows  that  the  youngest  of  her  children  could 
not  have  been  at  this  time  less  than  nine  years  old. 
Although  nothing  is  told  of  the  date  of  the  for- 
mer marriage  in  any  writings  accessible  to  me,  it 
seems  likely  that  the  eldest  of  the  children  of  that 
connection  may  have  been  born  as  early  as  1823, 
and  therefore  may  have  become  fairly  well  quali- 
fied to  take  charge  of  the  household  during  any 
temporary  incapacity  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Cushing 
herself. 

Mrs.  Edwards  states  m her  life  of  the  naval 
commander0  that  there  were  four  children  of  Dr. 

Edwards,  op.  cit.,  p.  15. 

*2  [17] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Cushing’s  first  marriage,  but  gives  the  names  of 
only  three  of  them,  who  were  all  members  of  the 
family  in  Wisconsin.  The  Milwaukee  County 
records  show  the  purchase,  in  1 844,  by  Mrs. 
Cushing  from  Dr.  Castleman,  to  whom  the  farm 
had  then  been  sold,  of  a burial  lot,  6 feet  by  4, 
including  a grave,  undoubtedly  that  of  her  third 
son,  Walter;  and  William  was  the  youngest  of 
her  sons  and  the  youngest  of  the  family  except  a 
daughter,  born  in  Chicago  and  still  living  there — 
Mrs.  Isabel  Cushing  Bouton.  In  Mrs.  Ed- 
wards’ volume,  however,  Mrs.  Cushing  is  cred- 
ited with  being  the  mother  of  seven,  though  she 
names  only  five.  The  last  conveyance  by  Dr. 
Cushing  himself  appearing  in  the  register’s  office 
at  Waukesha,  is  a deed  to  Dr.  Castleman  of  part 
of  his  holdings,  dated  April  13,  1843.  It  may 
be  pretty  safely  assumed  that  he  became  aware  at 
about  that  time  of  the  inroads  of  a disease  in  his 
own  system  which  some  four  years  later  proved 
fatal. 

Removal  to  Chicago 

In  1844,  then,  it  is  probable  that  the  wife  and 

mother  left  the  little  town  that  she  had  learned  to 

[ 18  ] 


A MISNAMED  TOWN 


love  so  well,  and  wended  her  way  to  Chicago 
with  her  own  children  and  those  of  her  husband’s 
former  marriage.  It  is  said  that  she  had  sug- 
gested the  name  of  Delafield  for  the  township, 
because  the  Nemahbm  lakes  were  not  within  its 
boundaries.  The  change  in  designation  was 
made  by  the  legislature  in  1843.  During  all  the 
time  of  the  residence  of  the  family  here,  they  lived 
in  Milwaukee  County,  in  the  Territory  of  Wis- 
consin. Waukesha  County  had  not  yet  been  ac- 
corded a separate  civic  organization,  and  Wiscon- 
sin did  not  become  a state  until  1 848.  Mrs.  Cush- 
ing’s choice  for  the  name  of  the  place  was  stated 
by  her  to  have  been  influenced  by  what  she  con- 
sidered the  more  euphonious  sound  of  the  name 
adopted,  when  compared  with  the  family  name 
that  was  to  be  immortalized  and  made  resplend- 
ent by  her  three  sons  born  in  Wisconsin.  It  is  a 
pity  that  the  town  had  not  been  called  Cushing, 
for  Mr.  Delafield  died  soon  afterwards,  and  the 
mill  property  was  sold  with  the  rest  of  the  estate 
of  the  deceased  in  1 846,  since  which  date  there 
has  been  nothing  of  an  historical  character  to  re- 
mind one  of  the  origin  of  the  local  name. 

[ 19  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


There  is  no  available  information  of  the  events 
of  the  three  years  ending  with  1 847  and  relating 
to  the  Cushing  family  in  Chicago — a town  not 
then  as  satisfactory  from  an  aesthetic  view-point  as 
the  Milwaukee  they  had  left  in  1 839.  Perhaps 
an  exception  should  be  made  to  this  statement  of 
lack  of  information,  in  favor  of  an  anecdote  told 
by  Mrs.  Edwards  of  the  young  William  walk- 
ing off  into  Lake  Michigan,  and  informing  his 
rescuer  that  his  name  was  “Bill  Coon,”  so  that  he 
could  not  be  immediately  identified.  He  conse- 
quently was  lost  to  his  family  for  the  succeeding 
thirty-six  hours.  It  is  also  mentioned  incident- 
ally that  Dr.  Cushing  resumed  the  practice  of 
medicine  at  Chicago,  but  he  could  hardly  have 
attained  much  success  in  it,  on  account  of  his  de- 
clining health.  Early  in  1847  he  returned  to 
Ohio,  perhaps  arranging  there  for  the  future  of 
the  two  sons  by  his  first  marriage,  one  of  whom 
became  a lawyer  and  partner  of  Salmon  P.  Chase, 
and  the  other  a physician;  but  both  died  several 
years  before  the  outbreak  of  the  war. 


DEATH  OF  THE  FATHER 


The  Mother  in  Charge  of  the  Family 

Dr.  Cushing  himself  died  at  Gallipolis,  Ohio, 
on  April  22,  1847.  He  must  have  been  a 
man  of  considerable  force  of  character,  and  of 
great  personal  attractiveness,  as  well  as  of  cor- 
rect conceptions  of  right  and  wrong,  with  sym- 
pathies always  for  the  right  side  of  public  ques- 
tions. His  physical  constitution  was  not  robust, 
however,  and  he  therefore  passed  away  without 
leaving  any  memory  of  important  action  of  his 
own,  and  without  provision  for  his  widow  and  her 
children. 

It  is  at  this  point  that  Mrs.  Cushing’s  person- 
ality becomes  more  distinctly  visible  to  the  inves- 
tigator of  the  family  annals.  Having  to  lay  out 
a course  of  life  with  particular  reference  to  the 
welfare  of  her  little  ones,  she  wisely  decided,  like 
Ruth  in  the  ancient  story,  to  go  back  to  the  home 
of  her  husband’s  relatives,  and  there  to  begin  life 
anew.  She  loved  her  independence  and  had  no 
intention  of  quartering  herself  upon  the  charity  of 
those  well-disposed  people;  but  it  was  reasonable 
to  hope  that  they,  or  some  of  them,  would  take 

[21] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


sufficient  interest  in  the  boys,  at  any  rate,  to  point 
out  ways  and  means  for  their  development  into 
good  citizens,  and  opportunities  of  which  they 
might  take  advantage  to  win  places  of  honor  and 
usefulness  among  their  fellow  men. 

She  was  very  soon  enabled  to  establish  a school 
for  children  at  Fredonia,  by  means  of  which,  with 
the  practice  of  strict  economy,  she  maintained  her 
family  in  a respectable  manner.  The  indulgence 
of  social  vanities  was  of  course  not  within  the 
scope  of  her  plans.  Her  boys  were  required  to 
help  in  the  support  of  the  family  by  the  perform- 
ance of  such  slight  tasks  as  the  neighbors  called 
upon  them  to  accomplish — driving  cows  to  past- 
ure, and  other  “chores”  of  a similar  character. 
All  moneys  earned  by  this  work  were  handed 
over  to  the  mother  and  employed  to  the  common 
advantage  of  the  family.  Mrs.  Bouton,  of  Chi- 
cago, the  youngest  of  the  children,  and  the  only 
one  now  surviving,  writes  this,  of  her  early  life 
at  home : 

One  trait,  I think,  was  very  remarkable  in  our  family 
— the  respect  and  courtesy  manifested  toward  each  other. 
I never  received  a reproof  or  heard  an  impatient  word 

[ 22  ] 


william’s  characteristics 


from  either  of  my  brothers.  They  always  displayed  to- 
ward each  other  and  my  mother  and  myself,  the  same 
courtesy  they  would  show  to  a commanding  officer.  The 
petting  and  love  I received  was  enough  to  have  spoiled 
me  for  life  for  contact  with  the  world. 

In  the  case  of  William,  at  least,  the  spirit  of 
courtesy  would  not  appear  to  have  been  so  over- 
whelming as  to  prevent  an  occasional  exuberance 
of  spirits,  an  instance  of  which  is  told  of  in  a letter 
from  Mrs.  Julia  G.  Horton  of  Buffalo,  cited  by 
Mrs.  Edwards  as  follows:  4 

Will  was  never  happier  than  when  playing  some  joke 
upon  one  of  his  elder  brothers.  One  summer  evening  I 
accompanied  his  brother  Alonzo  (Allie,  as  we  used  to 
call  him)  “to  the  mill-pond,”  upon  his  invitation  to  take 
a row  in  a forlorn  old  scow  which  was  much  patronized 
by  the  young  people  for  what  they  considered  delight- 
ful trips  over  the  smooth  pond.  When  we  reached  the 
bank  we  found  that  some  one  had  untied  the  boat  and 
set  it  adrift.  No  other  boat  was  to  be  had  and  so  we  sat 
down  on  a log,  wondering  if  some  one  had  tricked  us  out 
of  our  row.  Soon  we  heard  a wild  whoop  in  the  dis- 
tance and  saw  Master  Will  waving  an  oar  and  shouting 
to  us:  “Next  time  you  want  to  row,  don’t  forget  to  ask 
your  friends.” 


[AH 


4 Ibid,  P.  38. 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Mrs.  Horton  also  tells  an  anecdote  of  how  the 
future  commander  followed  her  and  one  of  his 
brothers  to  a prayer-meeting,  seating  himself  be- 
hind them  and  singing  improvised  personalities  in- 
stead of  the  approved  words  of  the  hymns  that 
were  being  sung  by  the  worshippers,  so  that  he  was 
discovered  by  a church  official  and  led  out  of  the 
congregation  in  disgrace.  There  are  other  like 
narratives  surviving  among  the  relatives  and  ac- 
quaintances of  the  Cushings,  but  none  of  them 
throw  additional  light  upon  the  young  men  in 
whom  we  are  at  this  time  most  interested.  With 
Milton,  the  eldest,  tradition  has  not  seemed  to 
busy  itself.  He  was  not  a native  of  Wisconsin; 
and  it  may  be  enough  to  say  here  that  in  due  time 
he  became  a paymaster  in  the  Union  navy,  receiv- 
ing promotion,  until  he  was  retired  for  disability, 
as  paymaster  of  the  fleet  then  in  the  Mediterran- 
ean, and  died  January  1 , 1 886.  He  married,  but 
left  no  issue. 

Of  the  younger  lads,  Howard  appears  to  have 
been  endowed  with  an  unusual  aspiration  for  in- 
dependence of  action,  so  that  at  fourteen  years  of 
age  he  took  the  position  of  “devil”  in  the  office 

[ 24  ] 


HOWARD  A PRINTER 


of  The  Censor,  in  his  home  village  of  Fredonia. 
As  soon  as  he  had  obtained  enough  of  the  tech- 
nique of  the  trade  to  imagine  himself  able  to  hold 
his  own  among  strangers,  he  went  to  Boston, 
where  flourished  the  aristocratic  relatives  of  his 
mother.  Here  he  continued  his  labors  at  the  press 
and  in  the  composing  room  until  affected  with 
some  illness  that  made  him  homesick  as  well,  up- 
on which  he  returned  to  Fredonia  to  recover  un- 
der his  mother’s  ministrations.  When  that  re- 
sult was  attained  he  started  for  Chicago,  mem- 
ories of  which  progressive  town  doubtless  had 
haunted  him  all  through  his  sojourn  in  the  East. 

He  had  left  Chicago  before  he  was  ten  years 
old.  The  Cushing  traits  of  character  were 
shared  by  him  in  such  measure,  however,  as  to 
make  it  reasonably  certain  that  he  was  remem- 
bered affectionately  by  former  acquaintances,  and 
the  road  towards  independence  was  doubtless 
made  as  easy  for  him  as  it  could  be  made  with  a 
youth  whose  dread  of  being  under  personal  obli- 
gations to  his  friends  was  in  any  instance  hard  to 
overcome.  A situation  as  typesetter  was  given 
him  in  the  office  of  The  Farmer's  Advocate,  and 

[ 25  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

in  that  capacity  and  place  he  worked  until  his  en- 
listment in  1862  as  a private  soldier  in  an  Illi- 
nois volunteer  artillery  regiment. 

All  the  Boys  Established 

In  the  meantime,  Alonzo  was  bravely  attend- 
ing to  such  home  duties  as  would  be  valuable  in 
lightening  his  mother’s  work. 

In  1855  her  brother-in-law,  Francis  S.  Ed- 
wards, took  his  seat  as  member  of  Congress  from 
the  Thirty-fourth  New  York  district,  and  ^he 
next  year  procured  the  appointment  of  William 
as  a page  on  the  floor  of  the  House. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  session  he  also  secured 
the  appointment  of  Alonzo  as  a cadet  at  West 
Point,  where  he  entered  in  1857,  in  the  seven- 
teenth year  of  his  age,  being  described  in  the 
Academy  records  as  5 feet  and  5 inches  tall. 

William  was;  then  fourteen,  and  a favorite 
among  the  congressmen  with  whom  he  came  into 
touch.  He  also  attracted  the  notice  of  a rela- 
tive, Commodore  Joseph  Smith  of  the  Navy,  af- 
terwards admiral,  who  took  measures  to  have  the 


[26] 


CHARACTER-MAKING 


boy  entered  as  a cadet  at  the  Naval  Academy  at 
Annapolis. 

Milton  was  employed  in  a pharmacy  at 
Fitchburg,  Mass.,  where  he  remained  until  the 
outbreak  of  the  war. 

Mrs.  Cushing  henceforth  had  only  herself  and 
her  young  daughter  to  provide  for.  She  had 
fought  a good  fight,  and  had  succeeded  in  the  es- 
tablishment of  all  her  sons  in  positions  in  which 
they  were  tolerably  well  assured  of  a good  equip- 
ment for  life  work,  in  which  the  ordinary  young 
American  of  that  era  only  needed  a sound  mind 
in  a sound  body  and  a fair  field,  with  no  favor,  in 
order  to  accomplish  something  worth  while, 
whether  in  war  or  in  peace. 

But  it  should  he  here  noted,  that  the  all-import- 
ant feature  of  personal  character  was  and  is  requi- 
site in  the  making  of  an  American  whose  exist- 
ence is  to  be  of  advantage  to  his  country.  In  such 
a republic  as  ours,  the  nation  would  surely  fail  of 
long  endurance  if  a considerable  proportion  of  its 
citizens  did  not  hold  the  national  welfare  as  some- 
thing higher  and  more  sacred  than  that  of  their 
own  individual  personality,  and  could  not  be 

[ 27  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


found  able  and  willing  when  the  emergency 
should  arise,  to  give  their  best  efforts,  even  at  the 
imminent  peril  of  life  and  limb,  to  the  advance- 
ment of  the  common  welfare.  It  was  the  preva- 
lence of  such  elements  of  character  among  great 
numbers  of  our  citizens  that  carried  us  through 
the  stress  of  the  Civil  War  in  a manner  that  left 
us  afterwards  stronger  and  more  respected  by  the 
whole  world  than  before  its  beginning,  and  which 
now  bids  fair  to  place  us  beyond  dispute  at  the 
head  of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  In  the  build- 
ing up  of  character  of  this  kind,  women  were  most 
potent,  and  among  American  women  Mary  Cush- 
ing stands  in  this  respect  in  the  very  front  rank. 
This  was  evidenced  by  her  furnishing  to  the  coun- 
try in  its  day  of  need  at  least  three  youthful  sons 
so  equipped  in  intellect,  nerve,  and  unflinching 
will  as  to  be  among  the  most  serviceable  of  all  the 
soldiers  and  sailors  of  the  Union  army  and  navy. 

The  four  years  following  the  entrance  of 
Alonzo  and  William  to  the  military  and  naval 
academies  respectively,  were  devoid  of  any  inci- 
dents of  absorbing  interest  in  the  lives  of  the  young 
Cushings.  At  West  Point,  Alonzo  was  ap- 

[28] 


TWO  CADETS 


proved  by  his  superiors  and  beloved  by  his  fel- 
lows. Modest  in  demeanor,  but  always  efficient 
in  his  work,  and  kindly  towards  under-classmen, 
General  Morris  SchafFs  “Spirit  of  Old  West 
Point’’0  shows  the  esteem  in  which  he  was  held 
by  all.  He  was  graduated  June  24,  1861,  and 
on  the  same  day  commissioned  second  lieutenant 
in  the  Fourth  Artillery,  being  promoted  to  first 
lieutenant  before  leaving  the  hall. 

William’s  cadet  experience  was  somewhat 
more  eventful,  for  the  reason  that  the  spirit  of  mis- 
chief was  more  dominant  with  him  at  that  time 
than  with  his  brothers.  The  culmination  of  his 
pranks  was  reached  towards  the  close  of  the  win- 
ter of  1861,  when  he  fixed  a bucket  of  water  at 
the  top  of  the  doorway  through  which  his  teacher 
of  Spanish  was  to  pass  on  his  way  to  an  evening 
party.  The  teacher  was  deluged,  but  the  young- 
ster was  given  permission  to  resign  his  cadetship, 
which  he  did  on  March  23.  This  release  was 
necessary  for  the  sake  of  discipline,  but  it  was  evi- 
dently not  the  intention  of  the  officers  to  allow  him 
to  pass  permanently  out  of  the  navy.  In  a month 

0 Atlantic  Monthly,  February,  1907. 

[ 29  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


after  his  enforced  resignation  he  was  acting  mas- 
ter’s mate  on  board  the  frigate  “Minnesota,”  from 
which  he  wrote  a letter  dated  May  7,  1 861 , to  his 
cousin,  Miss  Mary  B.  Edwards,  at  East  Troy, 
Wisconsin,  that  may  serve  to  indicate  his  feeling 
as  to  his  chosen  profession  at  the  beginning  of  its 
really  serious  work.  He  says: 

I can  write  but  a few  hasty  lines.  I am  an  officer  on 
board  of  the  splendid  steam  frigate,  Minnesota.  We 
have  just  left  our  moorings,  and  as  I write,  we  are  mov- 
ing under  steam  and  sail,  out  of  Boston  harbor.  I am 
going  to  fight  under  the  old  banner  of  freedom.  I may 
never  return,  but  if  I die  it  shall  be  under  the  folds  of 
the  flag  that  sheltered  my  infancy,  and  while  striking  a 
blow  for  its  honor  and  my  own.  * * * Wherever 

there  is  fighting,  there  we  will  be,  and  where  there  is 
danger  in  the  battle,  there  will  I be,  for  I will  gain  a 
name  in  this  war.  I must  now  say.  Good-by ; God  bless 
you,  Mary.  I will  write  you  from  homeward  bound 
vessels  as  often  as  possible. 

The  young  lady  to  whom  this  and  many  other 
letters  were  written  by  William  B.  Cushing,  dur- 
ing his  stay  at  Annapolis  and  subsequently,  was  a 
daughter  of  the  congressman  who  took  the  boy  to 
Washington  in  the  first  instance,  and  it  is  likely 
that  the  two  young  people  were  on  terms  of  fa- 

[30] 


A YOUTHFUL  COMMANDER 


miliar  acquaintance  with  each  other  while  they 
were  at  the  capital.  He  writes  to  her  as  though 
she  were  his  confidential  friend  as  well  as  his 
cousin.  Seven  weeks  after  sending  the  forego- 
ing he  wrote  again  from  the  “Colorado,”  that  he 
had 

been  to  the  North  twice  in  command  of  valuable 
prize  ships  captured  from  the  enemy.  I am  now  on  my 
return  trip  from  one  of  these  expeditions.  One  of  my 
prizes  was  worth  seventy-live  thousand  dollars,  while  the 
last  was  nearly  double  in  value  to  that.  I have  gained 
considerable  honor  by  taking  them  safely  to  New  York 
and  Philadelphia,  and  I expect  promotion  before  long. 

His  expectation  proved  well  grounded,  al- 
though in  a boy  of  eighteen  it  may  have  seemed 
rather  extravagant.  Before  completing  his  twen- 
tieth year,  as  will  appear  later,  he  had  the  unique 
distinction  (for  one  of  his  age)  of  being  given 
absolute  command  of  one  of  the  Union  gunboats. 
But  that  story  will  properly  wait. 

The  Beginning  of  the  War 

From  another  account  it  seems  that  one  of  the 
prizes,  “The  Delaware  Farmer,”  was  taken  in  by 
Cushing  himself,  and  was  the  first  taken  in  the 

[ 3i  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


war  by  anybody.  During  most  of  July  the  young 
sailor  was  on  duty  with  the  blockading  squadron 
off  the  coast  of  the  Carolinas.  In  August  he  was 
once  more  on  the  waters  of  the  Chesapeake,  en- 
gaged in  storming  a land  battery  and  destroying 
some  small  supporting  vessels  at  the  same  place. 
In  the  meantime,  Alonzo  was  just  as  rapidly  ob- 
taining distinction.  From  West  Point  he  had 
proceeded  without  delay  to  Washington,  and  on 
reaching  the  capital  had  applied  himself  most  as- 
siduously to  the  work  most  necessary  at  that  time 
to  be  performed.  When  the  writer  of  this  sketch 
arrived  at  Washington  as  a member  of  a volun- 
teer regiment  early  in  July,  1861,  Alonzo’s 
smooth,  swarthy  face  and  supple  figure  were  to 
be  seen  wherever  there  was  a volunteer  battery  in 
need  of  instruction  and  drill.  Although  he 
worked  his  pupils  hard,  they  all  loved  him  for  his 
radiant  smiles  and  frequent  infectious  laughter, 
which  were  potent  factors  in  smoothing  the  grim 
front  of  grizzled  war. 

He  was  then  only  in  his  twenty-first  year  and 
looked  still  younger.  Standing  5 ft.  9 in.  in  his 
stockings,  his  length  of  limb  was  such  as  to  give 

f 32  ] 


ALONZOS  SUCCESS 


him  the  appearance,  when  on  horseback,  of  being 
under  middle  height.  His  good  nature  was  so 
unusual  on  the  part  of  young  regular  officers,  that 
it  captivated  every  volunteer  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact.  On  July  18  he  was  at  the  front  in 
the  battle,  or  rather  reconnaissance,  at  Blackburn’s 
Ford,  near  the  stone  bridge  over  Bull  Run,  and 
three  days  later  was  in  the  thick  of  the  disastrous 
fight  on  the  farther  side  of  that  stream.  His  con- 
duct on  that  occasion  was  said  to  have  been  ad- 
mirable, but  his  position  was  not  yet  sufficiently 
advanced  to  secure  him  mention  in  the  reports  of 
general  officers,  such  as  became  a mere  matter  of 
course  as  soon  as  he  fought  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility, whether  in  command  of  his  battery  or  de- 
tached for  important  staff  duty  at  corps  and  grand 
division  headquarters. 

In  no  instance  is  there  record  of  failure  on  his 
part  to  meet  the  utmost  expectations  of  his  superior 
officers,  while  generally  he  exceeded  those  expec- 
tations by  a great  margin.  Although  not  at  the 
very  head  of  his  class  at  the  Military  Academy, 
all  who  knew  him  concur  in  the  opinion  that  he 
came  as  near  realizing  the  ideal  of  a perfect  sol- 
*3  [33] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


dier  as  any  of  the  contestants  of  the  Civil  War. 
His  assignment  to  duty  as  a first  lieutenant  of  ar- 
tillery on  leaving  the  Academy,  was  strong  proof 
that  high  expectations  were  already  formed  as  to 
his  future. 

Within  less  than  a month  after  he  left  West 
Point  (July  22,  1861,  to  be  specific),  in  com- 
pany with  some  thousands  of  other  infantry  sol- 
diers, I was  floundering  along  the  vile  wagon 
way  from  the  Long  Bridge  to  Bailey’s  Cross 
Roads,  where  our  regiment  was  to  make  its 
headquarters  for  several  weeks  afterwards,  send- 
ing out  scouting  parties  from  time  to  time,  and  es- 
tablishing picket  outposts  in  what  appeared  to  our 
uneducated  eyes  to  be  appropriate  points  of  vant- 
age. On  the  Monday  just  mentioned,  a copious 
rain  set  in  at  a very  early  hour,  and  the  roadsides 
were  strewn  with  knapsacks,  blankets,  and  other 
impedimenta  of  the  returning  soldiers  who  plod- 
ded along  towards  Washington  from  the  battle  of 
the  day  before.  Many  of  them  had  marched  all 
night,  and  very  few  of  them  had  taken  more  than 
short  intervals  of  rest  during  their  night  exit  from 
the  vicinity  of  Bull  Run.  One  battery  was  dis- 

[34] 


SOLDIER-MAKING 


tinguished  for  its  fine  appearance,  however;  and 
that  was  Battery  A of  the  Fourth  regular  artil- 
lery. Cushing  was  in  command  of  it  when  it  met 
and  passed  us,  and  even  the  events  of  the  preced- 
ing twenty-four  hours  had  not  been  sufficient  to 
take  away  his  smile — although  it  might  have 
shown  a sarcastic  side  to  a closer  observer  than  I 
then  was. 

The  infantry  regiment  in  which  I was  a 
private  retired  to  Arlington,  about  the  first  of  Sep- 
tember, from  the  front  line  of  the  troops  around 
Washington,  and  found  that  wonderful  organi- 
zation of  volunteers  west  of  the  Potomac,  plastic 
under  McClellan’s  skillful  hand,  in  the  full 
bloom  of  its  evolution.  Cushing  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  soldier-making  and  of  earthwork  con- 
struction, and  his  labors  were  of  acknowledged 
value.  But  what  McClellan  was  competent  to 
do  was  soon  done.  The  great  review  at  Bailey’s 
Cross  Roads  was  a source  of  astonishment  to  the 
expert  spectators  from  other  nations  who  observed 
the  accuracy  of  its  military  movements  and  the  ex- 
cellent bearing  of  the  70,000  men  who 
might  easily  have  marched  to  Centerville  the  next 

[ 35  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


day  and  squelched  the  Virginia  section  of  the  re- 
bellion with  not  a hundredth  part  of  the  effort  that 
was  required  for  that  purpose  in  the  years  follow- 
ing, It  must  have  been  with  a heavy  heart  that 
Alonzo  Cushing,  always  longing  for  effective  ac- 
tion, saw  the  splendid  opportunities  of  the  winter 
of  1861  squandered  in  useless  delays. 

Although  he  made  no  complaint,  the  experi- 
ence of  Howard  during  1861  afforded  ground  for 
greater  personal  vexation.  He  had  raised  a com- 
pany from  among  the  newspaper  men  of  Chicago. 
They  had  elected  him  captain,  but  for  some  rea- 
son their  services  were  not  accepted  by  the  Illinois 
state  authorities,  and  he  reluctantly  resumed  his 
regular  work,  pursuing  it  until  he  could  no  longer 
resist  the  call  of  his  country  to  the  field.  He 
therefore  enlisted  (March  24,  1862)  as  a private 
soldier  in  Battery  B,  First  Illinois  Artillery,  in 
which  he  afterwards  served  faithfully  and  with 
as  much  credit  as  a private  is  usually  thought  en- 
titled to,  through  several  strenuous  campaigns,  in- 
cluding the  operations  about  Vicksburg.  There 
can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  his  services  as  a 
private  would  furnish  material  for  a story  of  in- 

[36] 


ON  THE  RAPPAHANNOCK 


terest  and  instruction ; but  no  record  of  them  is  at- 
tainable, and  the  outline  of  his  military  life  must 
here  be  postponed  until  after  the  earlier  notable 
achievements  of  his  younger  brothers  shall  have 
been  narrated. 

With  William,  events  were  shaping  themselves 
as  he  desired,  except  that  the  fighting  was  not 
quite  as  plentiful  as  he  wished.  On  November 
22,  1861,  eighteen  days  after  his  eighteenth  birth- 
day anniversary,  he  wrote  to  his  cousin  Mary  (at 
East  Troy,  Wisconsin,  then  recently  married  to 
Mr.  C.  W.  Smith),  from  the  “Cambridge,”  a 
lively  account  of  an  expedition  into  the  Rappa- 
hannock River  to  cut  out  a vessel  loaded  with 
wheat,  which  was  burned  on  being  found  hard 
and  fast  on  shore.  Returning,  the  boat  was  bom- 
barded by  cannon  and  musketry  along  the  river 
bank.  Of  the  concluding  scenes  of  this  expedi- 
tion, he  gives  the  following  account: 

The  Southerners  had  stationed  a company  of  their 
riflemen  in  a house,  and  watching  them  I fired  canister 
till  I had  for  the  time  silenced  their  great  gun.  I then 
threw  a thirty-pound  shell  which  burst  directly  in  the 
house,  tearing  it  in  pieces,  and  as  I afterwards  learned, 
killing  and  wounding  some  twenty-five  men.  This  dis- 

[ 37  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


heartened  the  rebels,  and  a few  more  rounds  from  the 
gun  and  the  rifles  finished  the  work,  and  we  quietly 
steamed  down  the  river  to  the  ship.  * * * Of 
course  I was  glad  to  learn  that  I had  been  mentioned  with 
credit  in  the  official  dispatch  to  the  Navy  department. 

There  was  nothing  else  that  winter  in  the  way 
of  adventure  of  his  own  that  he  thought  worth 
mention;  but  he  was  a spectator  (March  9, 
1862),  of  the  battle  in  Hampton  Roads  between 
the  “Monitor”  and  the  “Merrimac,”  wherein  the 
destiny  of  wooden  ships  was  settled  for  all  time. 

Alonzo  was  prone,  with  the  anonymous  poet, 
to, 

Count  that  day  lost  whose  low-descending  sun 
Saw  at  his  hands  no  worthy  action  done. 

The  test  of  worthiness  with  him  was  usefulness 
to  the  Union  cause.  So  when  the  defenses  of  the 
capital  were  completed,  he  took  up  the  duties 
(January  21,  1862)  of  ordnance  officer  for  the 
Second  Corps,  at  General  Sumner’s  headquar- 
ters— until  the  return,  in  March,  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  from  its  fruitless  promenade  to  Cen- 
terville, and  to  the  vacant  quarters  of  the  Confed- 
erate army  there.  On  March  21  he  was  com- 
manded to  act  as  an  aid-de-camp  to  Sumner,  in 

[38] 


BEFORE  RICHMOND 


charge  of  topographical  work,  which  was  con- 
sidered particularly  important  in  the  operations  at 
Yorktown.  This  lasted  from  April  5 to  May  4, 
when  it  was  again  discovered  that  the  Confeder- 
ates had  declined  to  wait  for  the  annihilation  pre- 
pared for  them  if  they  would  delay  moving  until 
McClellan  should  get  all  his  parallels  in  shape 
according  to  Vauban,  or  whomever  the  authority 
on  earthworks  then  in  vogue  may  have  been. 

The  last  year  of  Alonzo’s  Life 

In  the  “seven  days”  before  Richmond,  his  con- 
duct was  such  as  to  receive  very  high  praise  from 
Sumner.  Before  the  end  of  July,  an  order  of 
transfer  was  made  for  him  to  become  an  officer  of 
the  Topographical  Engineers,  the  most  intellectu- 
ally elevated  of  all  the  branches  of  the  army. 

To  foregather  with  the  military  high-brows 
was  not  an  aspiration  of  this  soldier,  however,  and 
he  respectfully  declined  the  honor.  Notwith- 
standing his  preference  for  artillery  work,  Me 
Clellan  ordered  him  to  perform  the  duties  of  as- 
sistant topographical  engineer  at  his  own  head- 
quarters when  he  set  out  on  the  Maryland 

[39] 


cam- 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


paign,  and  kept  him  at  the  work  as  long  as  he 
himself  was  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac. The  general  had  a keen  eye  for  un- 
usual merit  in  young  soldiers;  one  of  the  causes  of 
the  personal  affection  felt  towards  him  by  the 
great  bulk  of  his  officers  and  men  was  his  prompt- 
ness to  acknowledge  their  merits. 

On  November  5,  McClellan  was  superseded 
by  General  Burnside,  and  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac was  soon  after  re-organized  by  separation 
into  three  “grand  divisions”  under  the  respective 
commands  of  Generals  Sumner,  Franklin,  and 
Hooker,  for  the  right,  the  left,  and  the  centre. 

The  right  grand  division  was  naturally  to  take 
the  initiative  in  future  movements,  and  Sumner 
wanted  Cushing  for  topographical  work  at  his 
headquarters.  The  required  surveying  and  map- 
making were  not  objectionable  to  the  young  man, 
so  long  as  no  active  operations  were  in  sight,  and 
his  labors  in  this  direction  also  received  warm 
commendation  from  the  commanding  officers. 
Indeed,  no  task  was  ever  placed  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  Alonzo  Hersford  Cushing,  whether  in 
civil  or  in  military  life,  so  far  as  I have  been  able 

[ 40  ] 


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Facsimile  of  part  of  letter  from  Alonzo  H.  Cushing  to  his  brother  Mil- 
ton;  written  after  the  fights  before  Richmond  in  1862.  For  group 
photograph  alluded  to  in  postscript,  see  frontispiece  to  this  volume. 


FREDERICKSBURG 


to  ascertain,  that  was  not  well  and  cheerfully 
done. 

The  disastrous  battle  of  Fredericksburg  occur- 
red on  December  13,  and  Lieutenant  Cushing  cut 
loose  for  the  day  from  grand  division  headquar- 
ters, taking  position  by  the  side  of  General  Couch, 
commanding  the  Second  Corps,  with  whom  he 
found  ample  opportunity  for  deeds  of  heroic  dar- 
ing, which  were  acknowledged  in  a general  way 
in  Couch’s  report  of  the  part  taken  by  his  corps  in 
the  fight.  “Lieutenant  Cushing,”  he  says,  “was 
with  me  throughout  the  battle,  and  acted  with  his 
well-known  gallantry.”  Such  further  represen- 
tation of  Cushing’s  conduct  was  made  to  the  War 
Department  that  President  Lincoln  brevetted  him 
captain,  to  date  from  the  1 3th  of  December,  “for 
gallant  and  meritorious  services  at  the  battle  of 
Fredericksburg,  Va.”  A leave  of  absence  for  a 
three  weeks’  visit  home  was  also  accorded  to  him 
from  January  26,  1 863 — his  last  opportunity  for 
a glimpse  of  life  among  his  relatives  and  friends. 
On  returning  to  Virginia,  Cushing  resumed  com- 
mand of  his  battery,  and  never  afterwards  left  it 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

until  his  glorious  death  on  the  third  day  at  Gettys- 
burg. 

The  battle  of  Chancellorsville  was  prefaced  by 
several  tentative  actions,  beginning  at  Fitzhugh’s 
Crossing  on  the  Rappahannock,  below  Freder- 
icksburg (April  29,  1863),  and  continuing  at 
Spottsylvania  Court  House,  Fredericksburg,  Sa- 
lem Heights  and  Marye’s  Heights  before  culmi- 
nating in  “The  Wilderness”  on  May  3. 

What  Cushing  did  in  this  fighting,  I have  not 
been  able  to  ascertain;  but  that  it  partook  of  the 
character  of  his  service  is  evident  because  the 
President  gave  him  the  brevet  of  major,  dating 
from  May  2,  1863,  “for  gallant  and  meritorious 
services  at  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville.”  It  may 
incidentally  be  mentioned  that  in  those  days  a 
presidential  brevet  was  of  more  importance  than  it 
afterwards  became  under  subsequent  acts  of  Con- 
gress. Originally  it  entitled  the  officer,  if  he 
pleased,  to  wear  the  uniform  of  his  brevet  rank,  to 
be  addressed  by  his  brevet  title,  and  to  serve  as  of 
his  brevet  rank  when  specially  detailed.  Under 
later  laws  he  could  not  properly  wear  the  uniform 


[42] 


WATCHING  LEE 


of  rank  above  that  which  belonged  to  him  by  regu- 
lar commission. 

It  was  a short  two  months  from  Chancellors- 
ville  to  Gettysburg,  and  the  concluding  two  weeks 
were  full  of  incident  for  the  men  engaged,  though 
history  has  not  considered  it  worth  while  to  note 
the  incidents  in  any  length  of  detail.  Even  the 
Rebellion  Records  published  by  the  national  gov- 
ernment have  little  to  say  of  the  marches  of  the 
two  great  opposing  armies  from  the  Rappahan- 
nock to  the  sources  of  the  Monocacy  and  beyond. 

But  the  destiny  of  the  Republic  was  entwined 
in  the  serpentine  paths  of  Lee’s  army  going  down 
the  west  side  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  Hooker’s  on 
the  east  side,  both  headed  towards  the  north.  A 
change  of  commanders  of  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac was  also  impending,  of  which  the  soldiers 
knew  nothing,  but  which  was  all  the  time  a puzzle 
and  worry  to  the  corps  and  division  leaders. 
Cushing,  with  an  ever  cheerful  face,  was  found 
with  his  battery  in  front  of  each  successive  moun- 
tain pass  reached  by  the  advance  of  Lee’s  forces, 
as  the  latter  moved  along  the  valley  of  the  Shen- 
andoah on  the  western  side  of  the  range. 

[ 43  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

On  June  25,  Hancock  concentrated  the  Second 
Corps,  of  which  he  was  now  the  head,  at  Hay- 
market,  only  a few  miles  from  Manassas  and 
Thoroughfare  Gaps.  There  the  Confederate 
cavalry  general,  Stuart,  was  surprised  to  find  so 
large  a force  and  went  back  over  the  mountains — 
again  northward,  in  the  track  of  Lee,  instead  of 
delaying  the  Union  army  by  a raid  on  its  rear,  as 
he  had  expected  to  do  when  he  was  detached 
from  the  main  Confederate  army  before  crossing 
the  Potomac. 

That  Hancock  should  parallel  Stuart  s march 
was  a matter  of  course,  and  on  June  30  he  was  in 
bivouac  at  Taney  town,  half  a dozen  miles  south 
of  Gettysburg.  The  next  day  the  curtain  was 
partially  withdrawn  from  the  most  magnificent 
spectacle  of  a conflict  of  ideas,  supported  by  fight- 
ing men,  that  the  Western  Continent,  at  least, 
ever  witnessed.  Hancock’s  corps,  to  which 
Cushing  was  attached,  was  resting  at  Taney  town 
all  day;  but  after  the  death  of  General  Reynolds, 
Hancock  was  on  the  battlefield  north  of  the  town; 
and  although  the  battery  was  with  the  rest  of  the 
corps,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Cushing  was 

[44] 


Gettysburg’s  third  day 

with  him  personally  as  a temporary  aide.  My 
reason  for  assuming  this  is,  that  the  brevet  of  lieu- 
tenant-colonel, made  out  for  him  the  next  day, 
stated  that  the  honor  was  conferred  “for  conspicu- 
ous gallantry  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  Pa., 
July  1,  1863.” 

I wish  that  I had  even  one  letter  written  by 
Lieutenant  Cushing  between  Chancellorsville 
and  Gettysburg,  but  I have  knowledge  of  none. 
Such  a document  would  admit  us  to  his  inner  feel- 
ings. From  his  acts  alone,  and  from  what  his 
most  intimate  acquaintances  in  the  army  have 
written,  our  judgment  must  be  formed.  A his- 
tory of  the  great  battle  can  not  be  given  here;  but 
fortunately  no  account  of  the  engagement  by  a 
reputable  writer  fails  to  take  notice  of  the  part 
taken  by  the  brave  young  son  of  Wisconsin  in 
stemming  the  high  tide  of  rebellion  on  the  third 
day  of  the  conflict.  In  Colonel  Haskell’s  absorb- 
ing story,  a tribute  is  also  paid  to  Cushing’s  en- 
deavors on  the  second  day.J  To  that  narrative 

Frank  Aretas  Haskell,  The  Battle  of  Gettysburg  (Wiscon- 
sin History  Commission:  Reprints,  No.  1 , November,  1 908),  pp. 
102,  116,  120,  121. 


[45] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


the  reader  is  referred  for  that,  among  other  living 
pictures  of  the  deadly  struggle. 

For  me,  it  must  be  sufficient  to  portray  as  well 
as  I can  the  final  stand  of  Battery  A and  its 
commander  at  the  focus  of  the  last  day’s  fighting. 
Our  line  of  battle  stretched  along  the  ridge  over- 
looking the  valley  between  it  and  the  southern 
armies;  along  its  whole  length,  fighting  was  either 
imminent  or  actually  in  evidence.  The  thunder 
of  artillery  was  like  a continuous  roar  that  filled 
the  atmosphere.  The  fire  of  most  of  the  one 
hundred  and  fifteen  Confederate  cannon  then  in 
action  seemed  to  be  directed  by  a kind  of  instinct 
towards  the  point  in  our  line  where  the  batteries 
of  Cushing,  Woodruff,  and  Rorty  were  belching 
destruction  in  the  faces  of  their  assailants,  a mile 
and  a half  away.  The  artillery  practice  of  the 
Southerners  was  good.  Between  the  afternoon 
hours  of  1 and  3,  many  of  our  artillery  organiza- 
tions suffered  severe  losses  L y the  bursting  of  am- 
munition chests,  the  breaking  of  wheels  of  gun 
carriages,  and  the  overthrow  of  horses  that  lay  in 
death  struggles  on  the  ground.  Men  were  hit, 
also.  Among  the  first  to  receive  a serious  wound 

[46] 


Gettysburg’s  third  day 


that  fateful  afternoon  was  Cushing  himself. 
Both  thighs  were  torn  open  by  a fragment  of 
shell — under  which  ill  fortune,  said  General 
Webb  in  his  report,  “he  fought  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  cool,  brave,  competent.” 

The  commander  of  his  brigade,  Colonel  Hall, 
reported  that: 

he  challenged  the  admiration  of  all  who  saw  him. 
Three  of  his  limbers  were  blown  up  and  changed  with  the 
caisson  limbers,  under  fire.  Several  wheels  were  shot  off 
his  guns  and  replaced,  till  at  last,  severely  wounded  him- 
self, his  officers  all  killed  or  wounded,  and  with  but  can- 
noneers enough  to  man  a section,  he  pushed  his  gun  to 
the  fence  in  front  and  was  killed  while  serving  his  last 
canister  into  the  ranks  of  the  advancing  enemy. 

Hall’s  last  reference  is  to  a later  hour  of  July  3 
than  that  to  which  I at  present  wish  to  call  atten- 
tion. It  is  near  3 o’clock  in  the  afternoon.  To 
give  them  an  opportunity  to  cool  off  somewhat,  our 
eighty  cannon  have  been  ordered  to  cease  firing. 
The  artillerymen  throw  themselves  on  the  ground 
to  rest,  or  help  clear  away  dead  horses  and  other 
debris  from  about  the  guns.  Our  infantry  line  is 
closely  fronted  by  stone  walls  and  other  fences 
along  the  Emmetsburg  road,  or  a short  distance 

[ 47  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

back  from  that  thoroughfare.  The  protection 
thus  afforded  is  not  at  all  certain,  even  when  sods 
are  packed  against  the  fences,  for  a solid  cannon 
shot  or  fragment  of  shell  may  penetrate  such  an 
earthwork,  when  reinforced  only  by  a wooden 
fence,  as  though  it  were  a row  of  cigar  boxes.  It 
affords  some  defense,  however,  against  bullets 
which  strike  diagonally,  or  are  fired  over  a con- 
siderable distance.  Down  in  front  of  the  hill 
called  “Round  Top,”  Kilpatrick’s  cavalry  are 
worrying  the  right  of  the  enemy;  but  that  fails  to 
disturb  those  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cushing, 
who  was  almost  in  the  middle  of  the  outstretched 
line  of  Union  troops. 

Now  Pickett  s splendid  column  of  1 7,000  Vir- 
ginians emerge  from  the  woods  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  valley,  and  direct  their  course  towards 
the  point  where  Cushing  is  holding  a front  place. 
Other  Union  batteries  are  hurling  solid  shot  at  the 
enemy,  as  they  start  on  their  fatal  journey  across 
the  valley.  Confederate  cannon  send  volleys  of 
shell  over  the  heads  of  their  infantry,  into  the 
groups  of  our  cannoneers,  who  continue  to  pelt  the 
advancing  column.  The  iron  shells  burst  in  mid- 

US] 


Gettysburg’s  third  day 


air,  with  puffs  of  smoke,  like  sporadic  ejections 
from  the  smoke-pipe  of  a locomotive  engine,  but 
with  resounding  clangs.  If  the  puff  from  a burst- 
ing shell  is  behind  you,  or  directly  overhead,  you 
are  safe  from  the  effects  of  that  explosion;  but  if 
seen  in  front,  the  iron  fragments  are  likely  to  cut 
through  the  flesh  and  bones  of  some  of  you;  for 
the  forward  motion  of  the  shell  is  not  lost  by  its 
explosion,  although  the  pieces  acquire  additional 
directions  of  flight.  There  is  a composite  of  de- 
moniac noises,  every  missile  splitting  the  atmos- 
phere with  its  own  individual  hum,  whir,  or 
shriek;  the  musketry  rattle  like  hail,  and  the  deep 
boom  of  cannonry  lends  its  all-pervading  basso  to 
the  symphony  of  thousands  of  instruments  and 
voices. 

As  the  grim  column  hurries  on,  our  batteries 
change  from  solid  shot  to  shell,  tearing  great  gaps 
in  the  advancing  lines;  but  these  resolutely  close 
up,  and  move  forward  to  attain  a distance  from 
which  their  rifled  muskets  shall  be  used  effectively 
against  us.  This  reached,  they  begin  blazing 
away.  Cushing  and  his  neighbors  open  upon 
them  with  canister  and  case,  every  discharge  send- 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


ing  a shower  of  small  metal  into  the  approaching 
ranks.  However,  the  survivors  press  onward, 
firing  as  they  come,  and  the  batteries  behind  them 
send  their  shell  among  our  cannon,  killing  horses 
and  men,  and  overthrowing  guns,  but  not  yet 
harming  afresh  the  young  hero  whom  we  are  par- 
ticularly noting.  Woodruff  and  Rorty  are  slain, 
though,  at  the  head  of  other  batteries  close  at 
hand. 

At  last  a bullet  pierces  Cushing  s shoulder. 
He  simply  laughs  at  the  hurt,  calling  to  Webb, 
his  division  commander,  “1  11  give  them  one  more 
shot.  Good-by!”  As  he  serves  the  last  round 
of  canister,  another  bullet  strikes  him  in  the  mouth, 
passing  through  the  base  of  his  brain,  and  he  falls 
forward,  bereft  of  life,  into  the  arms  of  his  clar- 
ion-voiced, resolute,  and  fearless  orderly  sergeant, 
Frederick  Fuger,  whom  he  has  called  to  his  side 
to  convey  his  orders  to  the  men. 

The  Union  line  of  infantry  was  also  making 
use  of  its  muskets,  in  trying  to  stop  the  Confeder- 
ate assault.  The  aim  of  the  soldiers  was  more  or 
less  accurate  in  proportion  to  the  nerve-control  ex- 
ercised by  the  respective  individuals  engaged. 

[ 50  ] 


GETTYSBURG’S  THIRD  DAY 


For  not  all  of  the  forces  attacking  or  attacked  are 
fully  conscious  of  what  they  are  doing,  when  the 
surrounding  air  is  pregnant  with  death.  Some 
try  to  shoot  with  their  eyes  shut,  and  others  for- 
get to  place  a percussion  cap  on  their  firearm. 
Out  of  over  thirty-seven  thousand  muskets  left  on 
the  Gettysburg  battle-ground  by  soldiers  of  both 
sides,  no  longer  able  to  carry  them,  nearly  a third 
were  loaded  with  more  than  one  cartridge  each, 
and  many  with  more  than  two.  We  pardon  the 
confusion  of  mind  exhibited  before  his  audience, 
by  a young  actor  or  speaker,  and  it  surely  is  no 
less  to  be  expected  that  unaccustomed  soldiers 
should  often  feel  trepidation  when  face  to  face 
with  death. 

Despite  the  firing  from  our  side,  a hundred  of 
Armistead’s  men  kept  close  to  their  chief,  leap- 
ing the  fence  next  to  Cushing’s  battery,  just  be- 
hind him,  and  in  time  to  see  their  leader  lay  hand 
on  Cushing’s  last  cannon  and  fall  dying  with  a 
bullet  through  his  body — only  a few  yards  from 
where  his  late  indomitable  opponent  lay  dead. 

By  the  side  of  that  field-piece,  went  out  the 
lives  of  two  as  gallant  warriors  as  ever  wielded 

[5i] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


sword  on  battlefield,  and  Cushing  still  lacked  six 
months  of  completing  his  twenty-third  year  of  life. 
The  Southern  soldiers  who  thought  they  had 
taken  the  battery,  now  rushed  back  or  surrendered 
on  the  spot,  and  the  flood  tide  of  rebellion  began 
to  recede,  never  again  to  attain  so  dangerous  a 
height,  although  often  rising  somewhat  uncomfort- 
ably. 

The  loss  of  a son  so  high  in  aspiration  and  so 
capable  for  the  achievement  of  necessary  tasks, 
must  have  been  a grievous  stroke  for  his  mother  to 
bear — she  who  had  placed  her  greatest  reliance 
upon  him,  rather  than  upon  his  brothers.  For  her 
compensation  for  such  a loss,  she  was  allowed  a 
pension  of  seventeen  dollars  per  month  until  the 
year  of  her  death  (which  happened  March  26, 
1891),  when  the  allowance  was  increased  to  fifty 
dollars.  In  this  case  the  national  government  was 
certainly  very  much  the  reverse  of  liberal  in  its 
recognition  of  the  services  of  a noble  mother,  who 
had  formed  the  character  of  a noble  son  whose  life 
was  joyfully  laid  upon  the  altar  of  his  country. 

It  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  state  that  Sergeant 
Fuger,  who  took  command  of  the  battery  after  the 

[52] 


ALONZO S DEATH 


death  and  disablement  of  its  three  commissioned 
officers  taking  part  in  the  battle,  was  promoted 
to  a lieutenancy  in  the  regiment.  He  served  in 
the  regular  order  of  grades  until  retired  (about 
1 900)  on  account  of  age,  as  colonel,  since  which 
he  has  lived  in  the  city  of  Washington.  From  a 
letter  recently  written  by  him  to  Mrs.  Bouton,  I 
am  permitted  to  make  the  following  transcript: 

In  answer  to  your  letter  received  yesterday  morning,  I 
would  say  that  the  best  friend  I had  was  your  dear 
brother,  Alonzo  H.  Cushing,  First  Lieutenant  4th  Ar- 
tillery, commanding  Battery  A,  4th  Artillery,  at  the  bat- 
tle of  Gettysburg.  On  the  morning  of  July  4,  1863,  I 
received  an  order  from  Gen.  Hancock,  commanding  2d 
Corps,  to  send  your  brother’s  body  to  West  Point  for 
burial.  I placed  the  body  in  care  of  two  non-commis- 
sioned officers  who  were  slightly  wounded,  to  take  it  to 
West  Point. 

The  manner  of  your  brother’s  death  was  this:  When 
the  enemy  was  within  about  four  hundred  yards,  Bat- 
tery A opened  with  single  charges  of  canister.  At  that 
time  Cushing  was  wounded  in  the  right  shoulder,  and 
within  a few  seconds  after  that  he  was  wounded  in  the 
abdomen;  a very  severe  and  painful  wound.  He  called 
and  told  me  to  stand  by  him  so  that  I could  impart  his 
orders  to  the  battery.  He  became  very  ill  and  suf- 
fered frightfully.  I wanted  him  to  go  to  the  rear. 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


“No,”  he  said,  “I  stay  right  here  and  fight  it  out,  or  die 
in  the  attempt.” 

When  the  enemy  got  within  two  hundred  yards, 
double  and  triple  charges  of  canister  were  used.  Those 
charges  opened  immense  gaps  in  the  Confederate  lines. 
Lieut.'  Milne,  who  commanded  the  right  half-battery,  was 
killed  when  the  enemy  was  within  two  hundred  yards  of 
the  battery.  When  the  enemy  came  within  about  one 
hundred  yards,  Lieutenant  Cushing  was  shot  through  the 
mouth  and  instantly  killed.  When  I saw  him  fall  for- 
ward, I caught  him  in  my  arms,  ordered  two  men  to  take 
his  body  to  the  rear,  and  shouted  to  my  men,  as  I was  left 
in  command,  to  fire  triple  charges  of  canister. 

Owing  to  dense  smoke,  I could  not  see  very  far  to  the 
front,  but  to  my  utter  astonishment  I saw  the  Confederate 
General  Armistead  leap  over  the  stone  fence  with  quite 
a number  of  his  men,  landing  right  in  the  midst  of  our 
battery,  but  my  devoted  cannoneers  and  drivers  stood 
their  ground,  fighting  hand  to  hand  with  pistols,  sabers, 
handspikes  and  rammers,  and  with  the  assistance  of  the 
Philadelphia  brigade,  the  enemy  collapsed  and  Pickett’s 
charge  was  defeated.  The  gall  and  behavior  of  the 
men  in  Battery  A was  entirely  due  to  your  brother’s 
training  and  example  set  on  numerous  battlefields. 

Lieutenant  Cushing,  my  commander,  was  a most  able 
soldier,  of  excellent  judgment  and  great  decision  of  char- 
acter. Devoted  to  his  profession,  he  was  most  faithful 
in  the  discharge  of  every  duty,  accurate  and  thorough  in 
its  performance.  Possessed  of  mental  and  physical 

[ 54  ] 


alonzo’s  death 


vigor,  joined  to  the  kindest  of  hearts,  he  commanded  the 
love  and  respect  of  all  who  knew  him.  His  superiors 
placed  implicit  confidence  in  him,  as  well  they  might. 
His  fearlessness  and  resolution  displayed  in  many  actions 
were  unsurpassed,  and  his  noble  death  at  Gettysburg 
should  present  an  example  for  emulation  to  patriotic  de- 
fenders of  the  country  through  all  time  to  come. 

General  Armistead  fell,  mortally  wounded,  where  I 
stood,  about  seven  yards  from  where  Lieutenant  Cush- 
ing, his  young  and  gallant  adversary,  was  killed.  In 
height  your  brother  was  five  feet  nine  inches,  in  weight 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  good  long  limbs, 
broad  shoulders,  blue  eyes,  dark  brown  hair,  smooth  face, 
without  beard  or  mustache,  and  rather  swarthy  com- 
plexion. 

From  other  communications  of  the  colonel,  ad- 
dressed to  myself,  I learn  that  Lieutenant  Cushing 
personally  saved  the  battery  from  capture  at  the 
battle  of  Antietam ; that  its  loss  at  Gettysburg  was 
two  officers  killed  and  one  wounded,  seven  en- 
listed men  killed  and  thirty-eight  wounded,  and 
eighty-three  horses  killed  out  of  ninety  taken  into 
the  action.  Not  an  uninjured  wheel  remained, 
and  nine  ammunition  chests  were  blown  up. 
Ninety  enlisted  men  belonging  to  the  battery  were 
on  duty  at  the  beginning  of  the  fight. 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Corporal  Thomas  Moon  has  also  written  his 
recollections  of  the  day,  and  although  his  memory 
seems  somewhat  at  fault  in  relation  to  certain  mat- 
ters, his  description  is  worth  reading.  He  says: 

Cushing  was  a small-sized  man  with  blue  eyes,  smooth 
face  and  auburn  hair,  and  looked  more  like  a school  girl 
than  a warrior;  but  he  was  the  best  fighting  man  I ever 
saw.  Our  battery  arrived  on  the  field  July  2 and  took 
position  on  the  left  of  the  2d  corps.  I was  sent  to  the  rear 
with  the  4th  caisson.  We  went  back  over  the  hill  close 
to  General  Meade’s  headquarters.  When  the  heavy 
cannonading  commenced  on  the  3d  we  went  further  to 
the  rear.  About  the  time  that  Pickett  was  ordered  to 
charge,  I was  ordered  to  the  battery.  I was  informed  by 
the  courier  that  I would  find  the  battery  on  the  right  of 
the  2d  corps,  at  the  grove  and  angle.  My  horse  made  a 
good  run  for  about  a mile.  I found  my  piece,  the  4th, 
still  on  her  wheels,  and  all  the  canister  we  had  piled  up 
around  her.  I had  been  on  the  ground  but  a few  min- 
utes before  I found  the  gun  hot  and  firing  slow.  A very 
few  minutes  passed  until  the  smoke  raised,  and  we  saw 
the  head  of  Pickett’s  column  within  three  hundred  yards 
of  us.  We  had  the  opportunity  of  our  lives;  just  what 
an  artilleryman  wants.  We  had  a flank  fire  on  them  and 
enough  canister  to  stop  them,  but  before  they  got  to  the 
stone  wall  in  front  we  were  out  of  ammunition  and  my 
gun  was  dismounted.  Lieutenant  Cushing  was  on  the 
right.  We  both  got  to  the  piece  in  front  about  the  same 

[56] 


Alonzo  Hersford  Cushing 


ALONZOS  DEATH 


time.  I found  the  piece  out  of  canister,  started  back  to 
the  limber,  looked  back  and  saw  General  Armistead  with 
his  hat  on  his  sword  yelling  to  his  men,  and  Cushing  be- 
ing held  up  by  some  infantry  officer.  If  I had  stayed  at 
the  gun  as  long  as  Cushing  did,  I would  have  been  there 
yet.  Our  guns  were  all  disabled,  limbers  and  caissons 
blown  up,  men  and  horses  killed  and  wounded,  and  the 
battery  under  command  of  a First  Sergeant  (afterwards 
lieutenant)  Frederick  Fuger,  a 10-year  man,  and  as  fine 
a soldier  and  officer  as  ever  faced  an  enemy.  I was  on 
duty  that  night — had  three  men  under  me.  All  we  had 
to  guard  was  a few  dead  men.  We  took  Lieutenant 
Cushing  and  three  or  four  men  off  the  field.  It  rained  all 
night. 

Now,  as  to  Cushing’s  wounds.  One  piece  of  shell 
struck  him  in  the  thighs;  another  piece  struck  him  in  the 
shoulder ; but  he  stuck  to  the  guns  until  a ball  struck  him 
right  under  the  nose.  He  fell  on  one  side  of  the  piece 
and  General  Armistead  on  the  other.  His  right  thumb 
was  burned  to  the  bone,  serving  vent  without  a thumb- 
pad.  We  were  all  tired,  powder-burned  and  bruised; 
so  we  laid  the  dead  men  together  and  lay  atop  of  them 
all  night.  The  next  morning  we  took  Cushing’s  fatigue 
blouse  off,  and  his  cook  got  that  after  I took  off  the 
shoulder-straps.  I carried  them  till  the  next  winter,  and 
gave  them  to  his  brother  (Howard)  at  Brandy  Station. 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Later  Naval  Service  of  William  Cushing 

Up  to  the  day  of  Alonzo  Cushing’s  death,  the 
reputation  of  his  younger  brother  William  kept 
pretty  even  pace  with  his  own.  William’s  judg- 
ment in  moments  of  imminent  peril  seemed  to  be 
unerring,  so  that  a venture  with  him  appeared  to 
his  companions  to  have  but  one  chance  of  fail- 
ure— the  death  of  the  adventurer  himself.  But 
this  had  been  challenged  with  so  many  styles  of 
defiance,  as  to  cause  the  more  superstitious  among 
the  sailors  to  believe  him  invulnerable.  They 
were  always  ready  and  anxious  to  accompany  him 
on  those  of  his  expeditions  that  appeared  the  most 
desperate.  The  unlimited  devotion  of  his  men 
and  under-officers  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  as- 
sets of  a military  or  naval  officer.  This,  with  his 
other  qualities,  procured  for  him  a commission  as 
lieutenant  on  July  16,  1862,  nearly  four  months 
before  he  attained  the  age  of  twenty  years. 

William  was  thereupon  given  the  position  of 
second  officer  on  the  gunboat  “Perry,”  on  the 
North  Carolina  coast,  at  an  age  when  a midship- 
man or  master’s  mate,  or  even  a lieutenant,  is  us- 

[58] 


WILLIAM  ON  THE  BLACKWATER 


uaily  content  to  play  a very  subordinate  part  in 
warfare. 

Soon  after  this  (September  following),  his  su- 
perior officer,  Lieutenant-Commander  Flusser, 
was  ordered  up  the  Blackwater  River  with  his 
own  and  two  other  boats  to  co-operate  with  a land 
force  in  preventing  the  escape  of  about  seven  thou- 
sand Confederates  stationed  at  Franklin,  with 
Norfolk  as  their  ultimate  object.  The  naval  con- 
tingent was  at  the  rendezvous  at  the  agreed  time; 
that  from  the  army  failed  to  make  connection.  It 
was  an  unpleasant  predicament  for  the  boats,  but 
they  fought  theii  way  back,  down  the  narrow 
channel  of  the  river,  the  banks  of  which  for  many 
miles  were  lined  with  infantry  and  artillery. 

At  one  point,  when  the  decks  were  being  swept 
by  the  enemy’s  bullets,  and  a boarding  party  was 
making  a dash  for  the  “Perry,”  Cushing  called  a 
half  dozen  of  his  men  to  help  him  get  a howitzer 
into  position,  to  meet  the  boarders  with  canister. 
When  his  volunteers  were  all  killed  or  disabled, 
he  look  the  gun  alone  and  trained  it  upon  the  as- 
sailants with  such  effect  that  they  ran  away.  In 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Flusser’s  report  of  the  affair  he  took  occasion  to 
say: 

I desire  to  mention  as  worthy  of  praise  for  great  gal- 
lantry, Lieutenant  W.  B.  Cushing,  who  ran  the  field- 
piece  out  amid  a storm  of  bullets,  took  a sure  and  delib- 
erate aim  at  the  rebels  and  sent  a charge  of  canister  among 
them  that  completely  silenced  their  fire  at  that  point. 

On  October  26,  1 862,  Admiral  S.  P.  Lee  re- 
ports : 

Lieutenant  W.  B.  Cushing  has  been  put  in  command 
of  the  gunboat  Ellis,  and  is  increasing  his  reputation  by 
active  operations. 

On  October  1 8,  William  had  written  to  his 
cousin : 

I am  alone,  inside  the  outer  bar.  The  nearest  friendly 
vessel  or  citizen  is  forty  miles  away.  Three  miles  off,  up 
the  inlet,  is  the  rebel  town  of  Swansboro.  I am  going  to 
run  up  and  take  possession  in  a few  days,  when  I have 
burned  up  enough  coal  to  lighten  my  vessel  so  I can  cross 
the  other  bar.  * * * You  see  I have  a sort  of  rov- 
ing commission  and  can  run  around  to  suit  myself.  * * 

* If  under  these  circumstances  I can  not  stir  the  rebels 
up  in  more  places  than  one,  it  will  be  strange  indeed. 

He  ran  up  to  Swansboro  in  due  time  and 
burned  the  “Adelaide”  with  a $100,000  cargo, 
besides  destorying  salt  works.  On  November  23, 

he  worked  his  vessel  to  Jacksonville,  a depot  for 

[ 6o  ] 


WILLIAM  ON  THE  BLACKWATER 


blockade  runners,  and  on  the  way  caused  a ship 
loaded  with  turpentine  to  be  burned.  At  the 
town  he  captured  a lot  of  guns  and  other  public 
property,  and  started  back.  About  5 o’clock  p.  m. 
he  found  and  shelled  a camp  of  Confederate 
troops  on  the  river  bank,  and  came  to  anchor  at 
nightfall,  staying  all  night  with  his  prizes,  two 
large  schooners. 

The  next  morning  Cushing  moved  on.  Reach- 
ing a difficult  passage  in  the  river,  he  was  attacked 
by  shore  artillery,  but  replied  so  vigorously  that  the 
gunners  on  shore  were  driven  away,  and  he  passed 
along.  Shortly  after,  however,  the  “Ellis”  ran 
aground  and  had  to  be  burned,  but  not  before  her 
outfit  had  been  mostly  removed  to  one  of  the 
schooners,  amid  some  hours  of  fighting.  Then 
Cushing  and  his  companions  escaped  in  a small 
boat  to  the  schooner  which,  with  its  companion, 
was  taken  back  to  open  water. 

He  asked  for  a court  of  inquiry  on  account  of 
the  loss  of  his  gunboat,  but  the  admiral  said  there 
was  no  need,  and  the  Navy  Department  at  Wash- 
ington approved,  saying,  “We  don’t  care  for  the 
loss  of  a vessel  when  fought  so  gallantly  as  that.” 

[ 61  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


A much  thicker  volume  than  this  would  be  re- 
quired to  tell  the  stories  of  the  young  sailor’s  var- 
ious adventures  during  the  ensuing  year.  The 
reader  must  be  content  with  relations  of  occasional 
adventures,  sometimes  in  Cushing’s  own  language. 
Our  hero  was  now  given  command  of  the  “Com- 
modore Barney,’’  a steamer  of  five  hundred  and 
thirteen  tons  with  a very  powerful  battery,  and, 
according  to  his  own  statement,  a good  crew  of 
over  one  hundred  men  and  thirteen  officers.  He 
continues,  in  his  letter  (written  April  5)  to  his 
cousin,  Mrs.  Smith,  at  East  Troy:  “Of  course  I 
am  as  proud  as  a peacock  at  being  the  only  lieu- 
tenant in  the  regular  navy  who  has  a [separate] 
command.’’ 

William’s  Letter  to  His  Mother 

On  the  1 5th  he  writes  his  mother  a letter  which 
is  given  here  nearly  in  full,  for  it  indicates  better 
than  almost  anything  else  some  of  the  prominent 
traits  of  his  character  as  developed  at  that  time, 
when  boyish  impulses  were  mixed  with  striking 
elements  of  manliness.  He  talks  with  the  inti- 
mate frankness  of  a son  who  is  still  in  love  with 

his  mother  and  wishes  her  to  share  in  his  triumph : 

[62] 


HIS  OWN  ACCOUNT 


Another  fight  and  another  victory!  Again  I have 
passed  through  the  ordeal  of  fire  and  blood,  and  again  I 
thank  God  for  being  safe  in  life  and  limb.  Suffolk  is 
besieged  by  the  enemy,  thirty  thousand  strong,  and  con- 
tains an  army  of  fifteen  thousand  to  defend  it.  The 
town  is  situated  on  this  river  (the  Nansemond)  and  its 
water  communication  must  remain  open  or  our  force  will 
be  in  a desperate  position.  Who  do  you  suppose  was  se- 
lected to  perform  the  dangerous  task  of  guarding  the  rear, 
and  preventing  the  crossing  of  ten  thousand  of  the  flower 
of  the  southern  army?  Who  but  your  son,  that  ex-mid- 
shipman, ex-master’s  mate,  hair-brained,  scapegrace,  Will 
Cushing!  Yes,  it  is  even  so.  I am  senior  officer  com- 
manding in  the  Nansemond  river.  I have  my  vessel  and 
two  others  now.  I had  two  more,  but  they  were  disabled 
in  action,  and  have  been  towed  to  Hampton  Roads.  I 
am  six  miles  from  the  city,  at  a place  called  Western 
Branch,  the  point  most  desired  by  the  enemy.  I draw 
too  much  water  to  go  up  further,  but  sent  my  light  boats 
up  above. 

Yesterday  morning,  as  they  were  on  their  way  down, 
they  encountered  a battery  at  a distance  of  three  hundred 
yards,  and  swarms  of  riflemen  in  the  bushes  on  the  banks. 
A sharp  action  ensued,  in  which  two  of  the  boats  were 
disabled,  and  but  one  left  uninjured,  but  the  captain  of 
her,  like  a brave  fellow  as  he  is,  got  them  around  the  point 
out  of  range,  and  we  managed  to  get  them  as  far  as  the 
bar  here  when  one,  the  Mount  Washington,  got  aground. 
The  rebels  soon  appeared  in  force,  bent  upon  driving  us 

[63] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


and  crossing  the  river.  They  opened  with  artillery  from 
two  positions  a cross-fire,  and  their  seven  pieces  sent  a 
hail  of  shot  and  shell  around  us. 

I had  but  two  vessels  afloat,  but  I silenced  their  fire  in 
an  hour.  In  a short  time  they  again  went  into  action;  this 
time  unmasking  a regularly  constructed  battery  not  five 
hundred  yards  from  us,  and  so  situated  as  to  rake  the 
narrow  channel  completely.  It  was  impossible  to  get 
our  disabled  steamer  off  from  the  bar  until  high  water, 
five  hours  ahead,  and  I determined  to  fight  on  the  spot  as 
long  as  the  Barney  [his  own  vessel]  was  above  the  water. 
I sent  the  light  steamer  down  to  guard  another  coveted 
point,  and  was  soon  exchanging  death  calls  with  the 
enemy. 

Well,  it  was  a hard  fight  and  at  close  quarters  most  of 
the  time;  so  close  that  their  infantry  riddled  the  two  ves- 
sels with  bullets.  Crash!  go  the  bulkheads;  a rifle  shell 
was  exploded  on  our  deck,  tearing  flesh  and  woodwork. 
A crash  like  thunder  is  our  reply — and  our  heavy  shell 
makes  music  in  the  air,  and  explodes  among  our  traitor 
neighbors  with  a dull,  sullen  roar  of  defiance.  Up  goes 
the  battle-flag  and  at  once  the  air  is  filled  with  the  smoke 
of  furious  battle,  and  the  ear  thrills  with  the  unceasing 
shriek  and  whistle  of  all  the  shell  and  rifled  bolts  that  sin- 
ful man  has  devised  to  murder  his  fellow  creatures. 
Crash!  Crash!  Splinters  are  flying  in  the  air;  great 
pools  of  blood  are  on  the  deck,  and  the  first  cry  of 
wounded  men  in  agony  rises  on  the  soft  spring  air.  The 
dead  can  not  speak,  but  there  they  lie  motionless, 

[64] 


A VIVID  DESCRIPTION 


lifeless  and  mangled,  who  a moment  ago  smiled 
on  the  old  flag  that  floated  over  them,  and  fought 
for  its  glory  and  honor.  Sprinkle  ashes  over  the  slippery 
deck;  the  work  must  still  go  on.  The  rifled  gun — my 
best — is  disabled,  for  three  shots  have  struck  it;  the  muz- 
zle is  gone,  the  elevator  is  carried  away  and  the  carriage 
is  broken. 

Steady,  men,  steady;  fill  up  the  places  of  the  killed 
and  wounded.  Don’t  throw  a shot  away.  The  wheel 
of  the  howitzer  is  torn  off  by  the  shell  and  the  gun  ren- 
dered useless.  Never  mind;  work  the  remaining  guns 
with  a will,  for  we  can  and  must  be  victorious.  And  so 
the  time  wore  away  until  the  rising  river  promised  to  re- 
lease the  imprisoned  steamer,  when  I signaled  to  the  light 
steamer  to  move  up  and  take  her  in  tow.  This  duty  was 
gallantly  performed,  and  the  old  Barney  remained  alone 
under  the  rebel  cannon.  * * * 

My  vessel  is  riddled  with  cannon  balls  and  bullets,  and 
I have  lost  three  killed  and  nine  wounded — four  of  them 
mortally — men  who  lost  legs  and  arms.  The  loss  on  the 
other  vessels  is  proportionally  severe.  I am  no  brag- 
gart, but  I challenge  the  world  to  furnish  a more  deter- 
mined fight,  or  a victory  more  richly  earned.  The  enemy 
shall  not  cross  here.  I will  not  give  way  an  inch.  Even 
now  the  thickets  on  the  banks  are  alive  with  their  sharp- 
shooters, and  as  I write,  the  quick  whirr  of  the  rifle  bul- 
let is  often  heard,  sent  from  the  bank  five  hundred  yards 
ahead  in  the  vain  hope  of  injuring  the  hated  Yankee.  A 
good  providence  seems  to  watch  over  my  fortunes,  tho’ 

[65] 


* 5 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


I do  not  deserve  its  protection.  I may  go  into  action 
again  at  any  moment,  probably  tomorrow.  I have  every 
confidence  in  my  gallant  crew  and  officers  and  do  not 
doubt  the  result  if  my  life  is  spared.  Love  to  all. 

In  haste,  Your  affectionate  son, 

Will. 

After  Gettysburg 

When  General  Lee  crossed  the  Potomac  on  his 
way  to  Gettysburg,  William  was  called  to  Wash- 
ington to  be  ready  for  action  in  defense  of  the  cap- 
ital, should  it  need  defense.  Hearing  of  his 
brother’s  death  on  the  night  of  its  occurrence,  he 
obtained  permission  and  left  for  the  battlefield,  in- 
tending to  ask  the  privilege  of  handling  Alonzo’s 
guns,  which  undoubtedly  he  was  perfectly  capa- 
ble of  doing.  Those  guns  were  out  of  the  busi- 
ness, however,  and  he  had  to  satisfy  himself  with 
looking  through  the  field,  of  which  he  said  long 
afterwards,  “My  mind  fails  to  bring  up  any  pic- 
ture that  is  so  grand,  or  solemn,  or  so  mournful  as 
that  great  theater  of  death.’’ 

A month  afterwards,  William  was  in  command 
of  the  “Shoboken,’’  a former  ferry  boat  made  over 
into  a vessel  well-adapted  to  the  shallow  waters 

[66] 


ATTACKING  BLOCKADE  RUNNERS 

of  the  Carolina  coasts.  With  her  he  "destroyed 
the  blockade  runner  “Hebe,”  after  a fight  with  a 
land  battery. 

A few  nights  later  he  took  a crew  of  six  men 
in  a dingey,  to  a point  on  the  beach  four  miles  from 
the  mouth  of  the  inlet  which  was  separated  from 
the  waters  outside  by  a long  and  very  narrow 
stretch  of  sandbank.  Here  he  and  his  men  car- 
ried the  boat  across  the  neck  of  land,  and  pro- 
ceeded with  it  up  the  inlet  to  the  anchorage  of  an- 
other blockade  runner,  where  he  took  ten  prison- 
ers, burned  the  vessel  and  some  valuable  salt 
works,  threw  the  shore  armament  into  the  water, 
and  returned  by  the  same  route,  regaining  the 
“Shoboken”  without  loss  of  any  kind. 

The  next  day,  William  rejoined  the  squadron 
outside,  which  was  engaged  with  a shore  battery. 
Landing  with  twenty  men,  he  captured  the  battery 
and  took  two  rifled  cannon  back  with  him  to  the 
squadron. 

The  Destruction  of  the  “Albemarle  ” 

As  it  is  impossible  to  crowd  into  this  sketch  any 
considerable  proportion  of  the  adventures  of  Lieu- 

[67] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

tenant  Cushing,  it  seems  best  in  illustration  of  the 
extraordinary  quality  of  his  bravery,  to  proceed  at 
once  to  the  narrative  of  his  famous  exploit  in  the 
destruction  of  the  Confederate  ironclad  “Albe- 
marle,” which  earned  for  him  further  promotion, 
the  engrossed  thanks  of  Congress,  and  congiatu- 
latory  addresses  from  civic  bodies  in  every  part  of 
the  North. 

This  ironclad  was  built  on  the  lines  of  the  old 
“Merrimac,”  and  like  the  latter  had  met  the  fire  of 
our  biggest  guns  without  injury.  In  April,  1 864, 
she  had  attacked  and  recaptured  the  town  of  Ply- 
mouth, situated  near  the  head  of  Albemarle 
Sound,  eight  miles  above  the  place  where  the 
Sound  receives  the  waters  of  Roanoke  River. 
She  had  beaten  off  our  fleet  at  that  place,  sunk  its 
principal  boat,  the  “Southfield,”  and  killed  the 
commander,  Flusser,  of  whom  we  have  spoken  in 
connection  with  an  earlier  conflict.  In  May,  the 
“Albemarle”  steamed  out  into  the  Sound  and  si- 
multaneously engaged  seven  of  our  vessels,  des- 
troying the  “Sassacuse,”  which  had  unsuccess- 
fully tried  to  overwhelm  her  by  ramming  beneath 
the  water-line.  The  Union  ironclads  were  not 

[68] 


GETTING  READY 


light  enough  to  cross  the  bar  in  front  of  the  en- 
trance to  the  Sound,  and  the  officers  of  our  fleet 
were  much  puzzled  as  to  how  to  be  rid  of  the  an- 
noyance. 

Cushing  finally  submitted  two  plans  to  Ad- 
miral Lee,  either  of  which  had,  he  thought,  a fair 
chance  of  success.  One  was  for  him  to  take  a 
hundred  men,  with  India-rubber  boats  ready  for 
inflation,  lead  them  through  the  dense  thickets  of 
the  swamps  adjoining  Plymouth,  and  after  inflat- 
ing the  boats  turn  the  sailors  into  a boarding  party 
that  should  overpower  the  “Albemarle’s”  crew. 
The  other  was  the  one  adopted,  although  with 
many  misgivings  on  the  part  of  the  admiral  and  of 
the  assistant  secretary  of  the  navy,  Mr.  Fox.  It 
looked  like  a modern  repetition  of  the  dramatic 
episode  of  David  and  Goliath,  and  they  permitted 
themselves  to  hope  that  this  youth  of  twenty-one 
might  have  as  good  fortune  as  his  Biblical  prede- 
cessor. In  brief,  it  was  arranged  that  William 
should  proceed  to  New  York  and  select  two  very 
small,  low-pressure  steamers,  each  carrying  a how- 
itzer and  a torpedo.  These  he  was  secretly  to 
convey  along  the  coast  to  the  Sound  and  there  at- 

[69] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


tack  the  big  ironclad  by  night,  in  such  manner  as 
might  appear  best  when  the  time  was  ripe  for  ac- 
tion. 

The  boats  were  secured.  Each  was  about 
thirty  feet  long  and  carried  a 1 2-pound  howitzer, 
with  a torpedo  fastened  to  the  end  of  a boom  at 
the  bow,  the  boom  being  fourteen  feet  long  and 
supplied  with  a “goose-neck”  hinge  where  it 
rested  on  the  bow.  One  of  the  boats  was  lost  be- 
fore reaching  Norfolk;  but  with  the  other  Cush- 
ing went  through  the  Chesapeake  and  Albemarle 
Canal  to  the  Sound. 

Starting  at  midnight,  he  found  the  Union  fleet 
fifty  miles  up  the  Sound,  expecting  a visit  from 
the  enemy’s  ironclad.  Here  he  explained  the 
daring  plan  to  his  officers  and  men,  and  told  them 
they  were  at  liberty  to  go  with  him  or  not,  as  they 
might  choose.  All  wished  to  go,  and  a few  from 
other  vessels  also  volunteered.  On  the  night  of 
October  27,  the  party  steamed  up  the  river. 

What  happened  thereafter,  is  told  so  tersely 
by  Cushing  himself,  in  his  formal  report  to  Ad- 
miral Porter,  that  it  seems  fair  to  use  his  own 
words.  Under  date  of  October  30,  he  writes: 

[70] 


william’s  own  story 


Sir:  I have  the  honor  to  report  that  the  rebel  ironclad 
Albemarle  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  Roanoke  river. 

On  the  night  of  the  27th,  having  prepared  my  steam 
launch,  I proceeded  up  towards  Plymouth  with  thirteen 
officers  and  men,  partly  volunteers  from  the  squadron. 
The  distance  from  the  mouth  of  the  river  to  the  ram  is 
about  eight  miles,  the  stream  averaging  in  width  some  two 
hundred  yards,  and  lined  with  the  enemy’s  pickets. 

A mile  below  the  town  was  the  wreck  of  the  South- 
field,  surrounded  by  some  schooners,  and  it  was  under- 
stood that  a gun  was  mounted  there  to  command  the 
bend.  I therefore  took  one  of  the  Shamrock’s  cutters  in 
tow,  with  orders  to  cast  off  and  board  at  that  point  if  we 
were  hailed. 

Our  boat  succeeded  in  passing  the  pickets,  and  even 
the  Southfield  within  twenty  yards  without  discovery,  and 
we  were  not  hailed  until  by  the  lookouts  on  the  ram. 
The  cutter  was  cast  off  and  ordered  below,  however, 
while  we  made  for  our  enemy  under  a full  head  of  steam. 

The  rebels  sprang  their  rattles,  rang  the  bell  and  com- 
menced firing,  at  the  same  time  repeating  their  hail  and 
seeming  much  confused.  The  light  of  a fire  ashore 
showed  me  the  ironclad,  made  fast  to  the  wharf,  with  a 
pen  of  logs  around  her,  about  30  feet  from  her  side. 
Passing  her  closely,  we  made  a complete  circle  so  as  to 
strike  her  fairly,  and  went  into  her,  bows  on. 

By  this  time  the  enemy’s  fire  was  very  severe,  but  a 
dose  of  canister  at  short  range  served  to  moderate  their 
zeal  and  disturb  their  aim.  Paymaster  Swan  of  the 

[ 7 1 1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Otsego  was  wounded  near  me,  but  how  many  more  I 
know  not.  Three  bullets  struck  my  clothing  and  the  air 
seemed  full  of  them.  In  a moment  we  had  struck  the 
logs,  just  abreast  the  quarter  port,  breasting  them  in  some 
feet,  and  our  bows  resting  on  them.  The  torpedo  boom 
was  then  lowered,  and  by  a vigorous  pull  I succeeded  in 
driving  the  torpedo  under  the  overhang,  and  exploded  it 
at  the  same  time  that  the  Albemarle’s  gun  was  fired.  A 
shot  seemed  to  go  crashing  through  my  boat,  and  a dense 
mass  of  water  rushed  in  from  the  torpedo,  filling  the 
launch  and  completely  disabling  her.  The  enemy  then 
continued  his  fire  at  fifteen  feet  range,  and  demanded  our 
surrender  which  I twice  refused,  ordering  the  men  to  save 
themselves,  and  removing  my  own  coat  and  shoes. 
Springing  into  the  river,  I swam  with  others  into  the  mid- 
dle of  the  stream,  the  rebels  failing  to  hit  us.  The  most 
of  our  party  were  captured,  some  drowned,  and  only  one 
escaped  besides  myself,  and  he  in  a different  direction. 

Acting  Master’s  Mate  Woodman,  of  the  Commodore 
Hull,  I met  in  the  water  half  a mile  below  the  town  and 
assisted  him  as  best  I could,  but  failed  to  get  him  ashore. 
Completely  exhausted,  I managed  to  reach  the  shore,  but 
was  too  weak  to  crawl  out  of  the  water  until  just  at  day- 
light, when  I managed  to  creep  into  the  swamp,  close  to 
the  fort.  While  hiding  a few  feet  from  the  path  two  of 
the  Albemarle’s  officers  passed,  and  1 judged  from  their 
conversation  that  the  ship  was  destroyed. 

Some  hours  traveling  in  the  swamp  served  to  bring  me 
out  well  below  the  town,  when  I sent  a negro  in  to  gain 


[72] 


WILLIAM  S OWN  STORY 


information,  and  found  the  ram  was  truly  sunk.  Pro- 
ceeding through  another  swamp,  I came  to  a creek  and 
captured  a skiff  belonging  to  a picket  of  the  enemy,  and 
with  this  by  1 1 o’clock  the  next  night  made  my  way  out 
to  the  Valley  City.  Acting  Master’s  Mate  William 
Howarth  of  the  Monticello  showed  as  usual  conspicuous 
bravery.  He  is  the  same  officer  who  has  been  with  me 
twice  in  Wilmington  harbor.  I trust  he  may  be  pro- 
moted when  exchanged,  as  well  as  Acting  Third  Assist- 
ant Engineer  Stotesbury,  who,  being  for  the  first  time  un- 
der fire,  handled  his  engine  promptly  and  with  coolness. 
All  the  officers  and  men  behaved  in  the  most  gallant  man- 
ner. I will  furnish  their  names  to  the  Department  as 
soon  as  they  can  be  procured. 

The  cutter  of  the  Shamrock  boarded  the  Southfield, 
but  found  no  gun.  Four  prisoners  were  taken  there. 
The  ram  is  now  completely  submerged,  and  the  enemy 
has  sunk  three  schooners  in  the  river  to  obstruct  the  pas- 
sage of  our  ships.  I desire  to  call  the  attention  of  the  ad- 
miral and  the  Department  to  the  spirit  manifested  by  the 
sailors  on  the  ships  in  these  sounds.  But  few  men  were 
wanted,  but  all  hands  were  eager  to  go  into  the  action, 
many  offering  their  chosen  shipmates  a month’s  pay  to  re- 
sign in  their  favor. 

I am,  sir,  very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

W.  B.  Cushing, 
Lieutenant  United  States  Navy. 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

So  much  by  way  of  requisite  and  necessary  for- 
mality from  an  inferior  officer  who  does  something, 
to  a superior  who  has  the  right  to  know  all  about 
what  the  other  has  been  doing.  Still,  the  young 
man  who  has  not  yet  attained  the  maturity  of 
twenty-two  years  discloses  the  ability  on  his  part 
to  say  clearly  and  concisely  what  conveys  his 
meaning,  although  not  always  in  strict  conformity 
with  rhetorical  rules.  Of  course  he  does  not  pre- 
sent himself  as  a candidate  for  honors  in  a class  in 
rhetoric;  but  he  does  possess  the  essential  of  suc- 
cess in  that  direction  also,  if  he  cares  for  it.  The 
language  that  is  for  use,  rather  than  for  ornament, 
is  the  language  of  lasting  character. 

But  from  motives  of  modesty  and  discipline 
combined,  the  lieutenant  did  not  tell  his  superiors 
in  office  all  the  items  of  fact  that  other  people 
would  like  to  know.  Matters  of  interest  omitted 
in  the  formal  report,  are  noted  in  many  cases  in 
Cushing’s  private  journal,  and  that  document  was 
handed  over  to  Mrs.  Harriet  Prescott  Spofford  for 
use  in  an  extended  magazine  article.'  From  that 

1 Harper's  Monthly , June,  1874. 


[74] 


A DARING  SCHEME 


and  other  sources  I will  add  somewhat  to  the  story 
told  officially  to  the  admiral. 

Cushing  had  a way  of  rapidly  and  judiciously 
thinking  for  himself.  On  approaching  near 
enough  to  the  'Albemarle”  to  make  out  her  pres- 
ence, he  concluded  to  board  her  and  take  her 
down  the  river  to  the  Union  lines,  trusting  to  the 
confusion  of  a night  surprise  to  help  the  daring 
scheme  to  a successful  issue.  His  view  was  cor- 
rect; but  just  as  he  was  about  to  put  it  into  execu- 
tion a challenge  rang  out  from  the  ironclad,  fol- 
lowed by  the  rattle  of  musketry  from  the  guards 
who  stood  at  their  stations.  Luckily  for  the  as- 
sailants, the  flame  of  a bonfire  of  pine  knots  and 
other  light-wood  flared  upward,  and  Cushing  saw 
what  without  it  he  would  have  been  unable  to 
see — a surrounding  semicircular  boom  of  logs,  fas- 
tened end-to-end  by  iron  links  and  hooks,  making 
futile  any  attempt  at  boarding. 

He  was  standing  on  the  deck,  in  full  view  of 
the  enemy,  who  were  doing  their  best  to  kill  him; 
but  the  whistling  bullets  could  not  disturb  the 
quickness  and  accuracy  of  his  judgment.  In  front 
of  him  lay  two  signal  lines,  one  of  which  was  at- 

[ 75  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

tached  to  the  engineer’s  ankle,  and  one  to  the  arm 
of  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  torpedo  beam — be- 
sides other  lines,  one  of  which  was  arranged  to 
push  the  torpedo  under  the  vessel  to  be  attacked, 
while  still  another  was  to  explode  the  torpedo  at 
the  supreme  moment.  A mistake  in  relation  to 
either  of  these  would  have  been  fatal  to  the  under- 
taking. 

But  Cushing  made  no  mistake.  On  being  sig- 
naled, the  engineer  below  backed  the  boat  out  in- 
to the  stream,  and  then  headed  straight  on  to  the 
middle  of  the  line  of  logs,  carrying  the  bow  of  the 
launch  partly  over,  so  that  the  torpedo  when  let 
down  would  be  within  reach  of  the  ironclad. 
The  officer  in  charge  of  the  sweep  was  then  sig- 
naled, and  lowered  the  torpedo  boom,  which 
Cushing  caused  to  be  crowded  under  the  “Albe- 
marle’s’’ side.  Then  he  pulled  a cord  that  re- 
leased a suspended  iron  ball,  which  in  its  turn  fell 
upon  a percussion  cap,  thus  exploding  the  infernal 
machine  and  blowing  a hole  through  the  side  of 
the  ram.  To  me,  this  perfection  of  action  in  the 
midst  of  death-dealing  missiles,  seems  almost  be- 
yond the  scope  of  mere  human  endeavor. 

[76] 


PHENOMENAL  COOLNESS 


Plenty  of  men  in  both  armies  could,  without 
flinching,  march  up  to  the  mouths  of  cannon  and 
into  a storm  of  bullets;  but  under  such  circum- 
stances as  surrounded  young  Cushing  when  des- 
troying the  “Albemarle,”  such  an  exhibition  of 
coolness  absolutely  imperturbable  was  neither  seen 
nor  imagined  by  me,  in  what  I saw  of  the  War. 
I doubt  much  if  there  ever  was  a parallel  instance. 
Possibly  the  exploits  of  the  elder  brother,  Alonzo, 
at  Gettysburg,  were  as  remarkable ; but  if  so,  they 
lacked  a minute  chronicler.  With  the  latter,  no 
complicated  calculations  nor  deliberate  weighing 
of  comparative  probabilities  were  apparently 
necessary  to  be  employed,  in  order  to  accomplish 
what  he  wanted  to  do.  Although  among  the 
bravest  of  the  brave,  it  is  not  shown  that  Alonzo 
was  in  every  respect  as  unquestionably  the  com- 
plete master  in  battle,  of  the  lesser,  equally  with 
the  greatest,  of  his  mental  faculties  as  was  the  case 
with  his  younger  brother.  William  was  as  alert, 
resourceful,  indefatigable  as  he  might  have  been  at 
a game  of  whist,  or  in  the  solution  of  a mathe- 
matical problem  in  the  quietude  of  his  chamber. 

But  escape  from  the  Southern  soldiery  at  Ply- 
[77] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


mouth  was  purchased  at  the  price  of  misery — and, 
ten  years  later,  of  a lamentable  death.  In  a pub- 
lished paper  by  him,  he  refers  to  his  experience  in 
the  river,  after  the  explosion  of  the  torpedo: s 

I directed  my  course  towards  the  town  side  of  the  river, 
not  making  much  headway,  as  my  strokes  were  now  very 
feeble,  my  clothes  being  soaked  and  heavy,  and  little 
chop-seas  splashing  with  a chocking  persistence  into  my 
mouth  every  time  that  I gasped  for  breath.  Still  there 
was  a determination  not  to  sink,  a will  not  to  give  up ; and 
I kept  up  a sort  of  mechanical  motion  long  after  my 
bodily  force  was  in  fact  expended.  At  last,  and  not  a 
moment  too  soon,  I touched  the  soft  mud,  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  first  shock  I half  raised  my  body  and  made 
one  step  forward ; then  fell,  and  remained  half  in  the  mud 
and  half  in  the  water  until  daylight,  unable  even  to  crawl 
on  hands  and  knees,  nearly  frozen,  with  brain  in  a whirl, 
but  with  one  thing  strong  in  me — the  fixed  determination 
to  escape.  The  prospect  of  drowning,  starvation,  death 
in  the  swamps — ali  seemed  less  evils  than  that  of  sur- 
render. 

At  twenty-two,  one  does  not  think  of  remote 
consequences,  but  human  constitutions  are  not  so 
made  up  as  to  remain  uninjured  by  such  violent 
usage.  The  commander  of  the  “Albemarle,” 

8 Battles  and  Leaders  of  the  Civil  War  (N.  Y.,  Century 
Co.,  1884-88),  vol.  4,  P.  638. 

[78] 


A CONFEDERATE  ACCOUNT 


Captain  A.  F.  Warley,  contributed  the  following 
note  to  Cushing’s  paper,  which  should  not  be 
omitted  here,  in  the  interest  of  fairness: 9 

The  crew  of  the  Albemarle  numbered  but  sixty,  too 
small  a force  to  allow  me  to  keep  an  armed  watch  on  deck 
at  night  and  to  do  outside  picketing  besides.  Moreover, 
to  break  the  monotony  of  the  life  and  keep  down  ague,  I 
had  always  out  an  exhibition  of  ten  men,  who  were  uni- 
formly successful  in  doing  a fair  amount  of  damage  to 
the  enemy.  It  was  about  3 a.  m.  The  night  was  dark 
and  slightly  rainy,  and  the  launch  was  close  to  us  when 
we  hailed  and  the  alarm  was  given — so  close  that  the  gun 
could  not  be  depressed  enough  to  reach  her;  so  the  crew 
were  sent  in  the  shield  with  muskets,  and  kept  up  a heavy 
fire  on  the  launch  as  she  slowly  forced  her  way  over  the 
chain  of  logs  and  ranged  by  us  within  a few  feet.  As 
she  reached  the  bow  of  the  Albemarle  I heard  a report 
as  of  an  unshotted  gun,  and  a piece  of  wood  fell  at  my 
feet.  Calling  the  carpenter,  I told  him  a torpedo  had 
been  exploded,  and  ordered  him  to  examine  and  report  to 
me,  saying  nothing  to  any  one  else.  He  soon  reported  “a 
hole  in  her  bottom  big  enough  to  drive  a wagon  in.”  By 
this  time  I heard  voices  from  the  launch:  “We  surrender,” 
etc.,  etc.  I stopped  our  fire  and  sent  out  Mr.  Long,  who 
brought  back  all  those  who  had  been  in  the  launch,  ex- 
cept the  gallant  captain  and  three  of  her  crew,  all  of 
whom  took  to  the  water.  Having  seen  to  their  safety,  I 


[ 79  1 


9 Ibid,  P.  642. 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


turned  my  attention  to  the  Albemarle,  and  found  her  rest- 
ing on  bottom  in  eight  feet  of  water,  her  upper  works 
above  water.  That  is  the  way  the  Albemarle  was  des- 
troyed, and  a more  gallant  thing  was  not  done  during  the 
war. 

A special  message  came  from  President  Lin- 
coln, recommending  a vote  of  thanks  by  Congress, 
so  that  the  young  hero  might  be  advanced  to  the 
grade  of  lieutenant-commander.  This  was  im- 
mediately followed  by  the  vote  requested,  and  by 
his  promotion  to  that  rank,  under  the  law  provid- 
ing “That  any  line  officer  of  the  Navy  or  Marine 
Corps  may  be  advanced  one  grade,  if  upon  recom- 
mendation of  the  President  by  name  he  receives 
the  thanks  of  Congress  for  highly  distinguished 
conduct  in  conflict  with  the  enemy,  or  for  extra- 
ordinary heroism  in  the  lines  of  his  profession.” 
The  importance,  as  well  as  the  “highly  distin- 
guished” character,  of  the  exploit  with  the  “Al- 
bemarle” may  be  understood  when  it  is  learned 
that  not  only  were  the  Carolina  Sounds  thereafter 
free  to  all  such  of  our  vessels  as  were  of  sufficiently 
light  draft,  but  the  town  of  Plymouth  fell  a few 
days  later  also,  without  a struggle.  Even  Cush- 
ing’s coat,  which  he  had  cast  off  when  he  leaped 

[ Bo  ] 


PERILOUS  SERVICE 


from  the  launch  into  the  river,  was  returned  to  him. 
The  back  of  it  was  shot  away,  and  there  were 
other  bullet  holes  through  it ; but  a gold  chain  re- 
mained safely  sewed  under  the  collar,  where  he 
had  caused  it  to  be  placed  in  honor  of  the  girl  to 
whom  it  belonged. 

At  Fort  Fisher  and  Afterwards 

After  this  promotion,  Cushing  took  command 
of  the  admiral’s  flagship,  the  “Malvern,”  and  in 
December  was  engaged  in  the  operations  at  Fort 
Fisher,  where  in  various  attempts  to  capture  that 
stronghold,  so  many  failures  had  been  recorded 
against  both  our  army  and  navy.  In  an  open  skiff 
there,  he  performed  a service  as  perilous  as  be- 
fore, although  less  spectacular.  This  was  the 
buoying  the  channel  for  the  fleet,  which  task  oc- 
cupied him  for  about  six  hours  under  a shower  of 
shot  and  shell  from  the  fort. 

On  January  12,  1865,  the  bombardment  was 
resumed  from  sixty  vessels,  and  after  three  days 
of  that  exercise  an  assault  was  ordered,  in  which 
Lieutenant-Commander  Cushing  was  permitted 
to  take  part.  It  proved  to  be  one  of  the  bloodiest 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

little  affrays  of  the  war.  Two  of  his  classmates 
at  Annapolis,  Lieutenants  B.  H.  Porter  and  S. 
W.  Preston,  were  killed  by  his  side;  which  caused 
him,  he  said,  the  bitterest  tears  he  had  ever  shed. 
No  other  officer  being  near  him,  he  rallied  a few 
hundred  men  and  was  about  to  resume  the  assault, 
when  he  received  orders  to  join  the  land  forces  un- 
der General  Ames.  He  then  had  the  satisfaction 
of  witnessing  the  surrender  of  the  fort  before  mid- 
night. 

After  the  works  had  been  taken,  Cushing  pro- 
ceeded to  round  up  all  the  pilots  in  the  vicinity, 
and  by  threatening  to  hang  them  procured  all 
necessary  information  about  the  signals  used  for 
the  guidance  of  the  blockade  runners  who  were  in 
the  habit  of  coming  in  at  that  point.  Within  four 
or  five  days,  one  of  that  class,  the  “Charlotte,” 
commanded  by  a British  ex-naval  officer,  steamed 
up  to  her  anchorage,  bringing  two  English  army 
officers  as  well  as  a valuable  cargo  of  arms  and 
ammunition.  Gratified  at  their  successful  trip, 
the  officers  were  enjoying  a banquet  in  honor  of 
the  event.  Cushing,  who  liked  surprises,  stepped 
into  the  cabin  and  informed  them  that  they  were 

[82] 


MADE  COMMANDER 


prisoners,  but  that  he  would  join  them  in  a glass 
of  the  champagne  with  which  the  table  was 
loaded.  The  Englishmen  made  the  best  of  the 
predicament,  but  the  feast  was  interrupted  by  the 
announcement  that  another  steamer,  the  “Stag,” 
was  coming  up  the  river,  whereupon  their  young 
captor  excused  himself  to  attend  to  the  fresh  ar- 
rival. 

The  war  was  now  practically  over,  and  during 
the  few  additional  months  of  its  continuance  no 
further  adventures  appear  to  Cushing’s  credit.  In 
1 867  he  was  given  command  of  the  “Maumee,” 
and  attached  to  the  Pacific  squadron,  where  life 
was  no  longer  strenuous.  On  January  31 , 1872, 
he  was  made  full  commander,  and  in  July,  1873, 
placed  in  charge  of  the  “Wyoming.”  In  Novem- 
ber of  the  same  year  he  heard  of  the  execution  of 
several  of  the  crew  of  the  insurgent  vessel,  “Vir- 
ginius,”  at  Santiago  de  Cuba.  Steaming  for  that 
port  without  orders,  he  stopped  the  executions, 
pending  instructions  from  Spain  by  which  they 
were  entirely  discontinued. 

The  following  year,  and  the  day  before  Cush- 
ing’s untimely  death  (at  Washington,  December 

[83  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

17,  1874),  the  “Virginius”  was  handed  over  to 
the  United  States  authorities.  For  three  days, 
without  medical  attendance,  the  young  com- 
mander had  suffered  indescribable  tortures  from 
sciatic  inflammation.  The  servants  in  the  house 
at  last  recognized  the  serious  character  of  his  ail- 
ment, and  called  a physician.  Soon  the  inflam- 
mation reached  the  patient  s brain,  and  he  was  re- 
moved to  the  government  hospital  for  the  insane, 
where,  universally  lamented,  he  expired  some 
days  later. 

Of  this  young  hero’s  personal  appearance  we 
have  his  own  statement.  In  an  early  letter  to  his 
cousin  he  says  that  he  was  “tall  and  slim.”  In 
one  of  his  published  letters  the  poet  Longfellow 
described  his  face  as  of  a beauty  resembling  Schil- 
ler’s. Since  all  of  the  foregoing  was  written, 
however,  I have  received  from  the  widow  of  Com- 
mander Cushing  (still  living  with  their  two 
daughters  at  Fredonia,  New  York),  a letter  con- 
taining a description  of  him  so  admirably  lifelike 
that  I am  glad  to  reproduce  it  in  full.  For  rea- 
sons appearing  elsewhere,  however,  it  would  seem 
that  her  recollection  of  what  she  heard  forty  years 

[84] 


WILLIAMS  appearance 


ago  as  to  Alonzo’s  stature  is  not  so  perfect  as  her 
remembrance  of  her  husband.  She  writes  under 
date  of  January  1,  1910: 

Mr.  Theron  W . Haight, 

My  Dear  Sir:  Your  letters  of  kind  inquiry  regard- 
ing Commander  Cushing’s  personal  appearance,  height, 
etc.,  have  unavoidably  remained  too  long  unanswered.  I 
trust  you  will  pardon  the  delay,  and  that  the  informa- 
tion I send  will  be  satisfactory  and  not  too  late  for  your 
use. 

I met  Mr.  Cushing  for  the  first  time  in  the  late  spring 
of  1867 — a few  months  before  I acted  as  bridesmaid  at 
his  sister’s  wedding. 

Mr.  Cushing  was  tall,  slender  and  very  erect.  His 
movements  easy  and  graceful,  at  the  same  time  indicating 
force  and  strength.  His  head  was  well  poised,  his  look 
clear,  direct,  and  steady.  His  features  were  regular  and 
clear  cut,  with  a fascinating  expression  about  the  mouth 
when  he  smiled  which  attracted  one’s  attention  to  that 
feature.  His  hair  was  of  a medium  brown,  soft,  fine, 
dark,  and  straight,  without  a suggestion  of  curl.  His 
rather  delicate  mustache  was  of  a lighter  brown,  suggest- 
ive of  golden  lights,  never  of  reddish  tints. 

His  animation  and  enthusiasm  in  conversation  lent  a 
glow  to  his  light,  blue-gray  eyes  that  made  them  seem 
dark.  His  brilliant  mind  was  expressed  in  choice  and 
facile  diction — he  was  a fluent  and  charming  writer.  All 
his  impulses  were  fine,  noble.  He  was  generous  to  a 


[85] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


fault,  tender  and  affectionate,  and  exemplified  the  senti- 
ment. 

The  bravest  are  the  tenderest; 

The  loving  are  the  daring. 

What  he  achieved  and  lived  through  in  the  Civil  War, 
the  perilous  tasks  he  assumed  and  accomplished  for  his 
country  in  her  time  of  greatest  danger,  form  a background 
from  which  his  figure  stands  out  in  vivid  relief.  It  beams 
with  his  indomitable  courage  and  is  gilded  with  his  heroic 
character. 

I have  often  heard  Mr.  Cushing  speak  of  his  brother 
Alonzo,  who  was  two  years  his  senior  and  two  inches 
taller.  My  husband  was  exactly  six  feet  without  shoes. 
They  were  as  intimate  and  devoted  as  girls,  and  quite  the 
opposite  in  manner  and  speech,  I should  say. 

Alonzo  and  Howard  I never  saw,  but  the  picture  of 
the  former  stands  out  in  my  mind  as  a tall,  gentle,  dark- 
haired, reticent  man  (he  was  only  22  when  he  died),  as 
against  the  younger,  more  lively  and  more  impressionable 
brother. 

When  I became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Cushing,  he 
seemed  to  have  become  the  head  of  the  family.  I mean 
that  he  assumed  and  bore  the  responsibility  of  the  family. 
He  had  been  more  fortunate  in  financial  matters  and  was 
therefore  in  a position  to  help  all  the  others,  which  he  did 
on  occasions  with  the  most  open-handed  liberality. 

Alonzo  died  at  Gettysburg  in  ’63,  long  before  I knew 
the  family.  Howard  was  killed  by  the  Apaches  after  I 
was  married.  I well  remember  what  a shock  it  was  to 

[86] 


William  Barker  Cushing 
From  oil  portrait  (1865)  by  A.  Bradish. 
See  Mrs.  Cushing’s  letter,  p.  87. 


. - 


william’s  appearance 


my  husband,  and  how  he  grieved  for  him,  and  tried  to 
comfort  his  mother,  obtaining  all  possible  details  of  his 
brilliant  service  and  lamentable  death  in  Arizona  through 
correspondence  with  the  commanding  general  and  offi- 
cers, and  with  the  War  Department  at  Washington. 

I wish  to  thank  you  most  cordially  for  the  fine  photo- 
gravure you  sent.  It  arrived  in  excellent  condition.  It 
is  an  admirable  copy  of  the  Bradish  portrait,  which  we 
have,  but  the  portrait  itself  does  not  seem  correctly  pro- 
portioned on  the  side  turned  away,  being  a trifle  too  broad 
under  the  eye,  and  so  represents  the  face  as  too  pointed. 
The  photo  shows  it  more  clearly  than  the  painting.  My 
criticism  of  the  portrait,  however,  does  not  affect  your 
fine  copy  or  the  kindness  that  prompted  you  to  send  it. 
I thank  you  sincerely  for  it. 

I wish  also  to  thank  you  for  the  work  you  are  doing, 
and  trust  your  history  of  the  Three  Wisconsin  Cushings 
will  be  admirable  in  every  way,  and  fully  meet  your  own 
expectations,  as  well  as  receive  the  merited  reward  of  the 
approbation  of  the  State  Historical  Society  and  of  the 
public. 

Respectfully  yours, 

Kate  L.  Cushing. 

Forest  Place,  Fredonia,  N.  Y. 


[87] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


Howard  Cushing  With  the  Artillery 

Of  Howard  Cushing,  the  attainable  memorials 
are  very  meagre.  Indeed,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  achievements  of  a private  soldier  in  a vol- 
unteer regiment  in  war  time,  they  are  not  com- 
monly mentioned  in  official  reports.  In  the  case 
of  Howard  it  is  only  apparent  on  the  face  of  the 
records  of  the  Illinois  regiment  with  which  he 
served,  that  his  conduct  there  was  at  least  suffi- 
ciently creditable  to  warrant  his  promotion  (No- 
vember 30,  1863)  to  a second  lieutenancy  in  the 
regular  artillery. 

His  claim  to  distinction  was  not  made  conspicu- 
ously emphatic  during  his  artillery  service. 
However,  it  is  probable  that  this  was  due  rather 
to  circumstances  than  to  any  failure  on  his  part  to 
do  what  might  be  done  by  a soldier  of  very  high 
class  under  the  conditions  which  he  found  after 
entering  the  regular  service.  At  his  own  request 
he  was  assigned  to  Battery  A of  the  Fourth,  in 
which  his  brother  Alonzo  lost  his  life.  But  he 
had  not  the  eclat  with  which  his  brother  was  sig- 
nalized on  his  graduation  from  West  Point;  more- 

[88] 


•J&t  A 


r('>s> 


9^r>-e/  cry^~ 


-S — *> 


--'Hr 


I7^~ 


<cH  V^  (r-tzXL£y  i%  n ? 

<^L^-t>iy  ~&f*c^cis'j  (Z^T'Cy  o-ts~&~>  &-<  -.c> 

sv^Lj^  .z^An  c^u^u.  <k^-  <?. 

c?^L 


<~0<  \y, 

A^eZW,  y ,-,/  _/  " 

cA- ^CaJZ  ,<4  .,^,sG.>->~r 

p?  y'-X^-yy^d) 

CC^J)  l/J^  ^ ' 

I~^J "ppp  ■/PT'"Lt^ 

A %ljj: 

. ,,  , 
-Ay>-c<  fa  1 

-Ppp.-G1  <y  - • 


Facsimile  of  part  of  letter  from  Howard  B.  Cushing  to  his  brother  Mil- 
ton; dated  August  6,  1863 


Howard’s  adventures 


over,  the  fact  that  Sergeant  Fuger,  now  an  officer 
in  the  same  organization,  had  also  served  as  an 
enlisted  man,  did  not  tend  to  keep  it  at  the  same 
level,  in  the  esteem  of  other  regular  officers,  as 
would  have  been  the  case  had  one  of  the  two,  at 
least,  arrived  at  his  position  by  way  of  the  Acad- 
emy. It  may  be  that  the  exclusiveness  here  noted 
tends  to  the  general  advantage  of  the  army,  but 
not  unlikely  it  is  somewhat  depressing  to  ap- 
pointees from  the  ranks. 

At  all  events,  what  happened  to  Battery  A af- 
ter Howard’s  assignment  to  duty  with  it  was,  that 
it  was  kept  in  camp  near  Brandy  Station,  Virginia, 
until  the  following  March.  Then  it  was  at- 
tached to  the  second  division  of  the  cavalry  corps 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  took  part  in 
Sheridan’s  battles  at  Mine  Run,  Virginia  (May 
3,  1864),  at  Todd’s  Tavern  (May  4),  at 
Meadow  Bridge  (May  6),  at  Yellow  Tavern, 
where  General  “Jeb”  Stuart  was  killed  in  front 
of  Howard’s  section  (May  11),  at  Strawberry 
Hill  (May  13),  and  at  Hawes’s  Shop  the  same 
day.  In  these  battles  Howard  commanded  a 
section  of  two  three-inch  guns.  The  losses  of  the 

[89] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

battery  in  those  fights  were  so  considerable  that  it 
was,  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  sent  back  to  Wash- 
ington to  recuperate,  remaining  there  until  after 
the  conclusion  of  the  war,  with  the  exception  here- 
inafter mentioned. 

After  its  transfer  to  the  capital,  the  last  experi- 
ence of  the  battery  in  hostilities  came  very  near 
proving  serious.  Early’s  raid  into  Maryland  oc- 
curred shortly  after  the  first  of  July.  On  the  ninth 
he  fought  a battle  with  a Union  force  on  the  Mo- 
nocacy,  in  which  he  was  victorious,  and  headed 
for  Washington,  then  defended  by  only  about 
5,000  soldiers.  Battery  A was  then  at  Fort  Tot- 
ten, near  Bladensburg,  where  the  ranking  officer 
was  a captain  of  one  hundred-day  troops  from 
Ohio,  and  of  course  in  command.  He  seems, 
nevertheless,  to  have  had  good  discretion,  and  be- 
fore making  any  movement  in  the  way  of  defense 
requested  the  advice  of  the  seasoned  officers  under 
him.  Late  on  the  tenth,  soldiers  of  the  Veteran 
Reserve  Corps  from  the  city,  accompanied  by 
clerks  from  the  departments  and  convalescents 
from  the  hospitals,  swarmed  out  to  the  outer  line 


[90] 


HOWARDS  ADVENTURES 


of  earthworks  and  manned  the  rifle-pits  stretching 
along  between  the  forts. 

The  next  day,  Confederate  cavalry  came  into 
sight  and  the  smoke  of  burning  houses  behind 
them  told  the  sort  of  work  they  were  doing.  In 
the  afternoon,  Confederate  infantry  appeared,  but 
stopped  after  forming  in  line  of  battle.  On  the 
twelfth  they  began  moving  before  sunrise,  and 
were  met  by  shells  from  the  forts — among  others, 
three  100-pound  Parrott  guns,  handled  by  the 
men  of  Battery  A,  being  brought  into  action. 
There  was  also  infantry  fighting,  but  not  of  a ser- 
ious character.  Towards  night  the  Sixth  Corps 
of  the  Union  army,  which  had  been  brought  up 
the  river  on  transports,  began  to  arrive  at  the  earth- 
works, and  no  further  danger  was  feared.  Ad- 
vancing in  line  of  battle  it  was  found  that  the  Con- 
federates were  now  in  retreat ; but  if  they  had  not 
been  so  cautious  the  day  before,  it  is  probable  that 
Early’s  18,000  tried  soldiers  would  have  made 
their  way  into  Washington,  and  inflicted  the  most 
humiliating  disaster  of  the  war. 

Late  in  the  fall,  the  senior  lieutenant  of  the  bat- 
tery being  absent  on  leave,  Lieutenant  Cushing 

[ 9i  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


was  ordered  to  take  the  men  and  guns  to  Elmira, 
New  York,  to  assist  in  guarding  the  prison  pen  at 
that  place.  There,  about  12,000  Confederates 
were  confined,  in  charge  of  a regiment  of  short- 
term men,  undisciplined  and  unaware  of  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  their  position.  The  prisoners 
were  in  consequence  unruly  and  often  uproarious. 

The  day  after  his  arrival,  Cushing  went  with 
his  second  in  command,  Lieutenant  Frank  Wilke- 
son,  to  inspect  the  outer  lines  of  the  camp,  and  was 
assailed  with  jeers  and  howls  of  contempt  by  the 
prisoners.  Quick  action  was  needed.  Cushing 
gave  the  Confederates  the  following  talk,  re- 
ported10 to  have  been  delivered  in  a low,  clear 
voice,  in  terms  far  from  polite,  but  nevertheless  ef- 
fective, for  no  further  trouble  was  experienced : 

See  here — , — , — ! I am  just  up  from  the  front, 
where  I have  been  killing  such  infernal  wretches  as  you 
are.  I have  met  you  in  twenty  battles.  I never  lost  a 
gun  to  you.  You  never  drove  a battery  I served  with 
from  its  position.  Y ou  are  a crowd  of  insolent,  cowardly 
scoundrels,  and  if  I had  command  of  this  prison  I would 
discipline  you,  or  kill  you,  and  I should  much  prefer  to 

10  Frank  Wilkeson,  Recollections  of  a Private  Soldier  in 
the  Army  o f the  Potomac  (N.  Y.,  1887),  pp.  223,  224. 

[92] 


HOWARD  AT  FORT  MEYER 


kill  you.  I have  brought  a battery  of  United  States  ar- 
tillery to  this  pen,  and  if  you  give  me  occasion  I will  be 
glad  to  dam  that  river  [pointing  to  the  Chemung]  with 
your  worthless  carcasses,  and  silence  your  insolent  tongues 
forever.  I fully  understand  that  you  are  presuming  on 
your  position  as  prisoners  of  war  when  you  talk  to  me  as 
you  have;  but  [and  here  his  hand  shook  warningly  in  the 
faces  of  the  group],  you  have  reached  the  end  of  your 
rope  with  me.  I will  kill  the  first  man  of  you  who  again 
speaks  insultingly  to  me  while  I am  in  this  pen,  and  I 
shall  be  here  daily.  Now,  go  to  your  quarters! 

The  release  of  all  prisoners  of  war,  in  1865, 
made  unnecessary  the  further  presence  of  cannon 
at  Elmira.  Cushing  thereupon  returned  to  Wash- 
ington. His  entire  organization  was  dismounted, 
and  early  in  1866  assigned  to  duty  as  heavy  ar- 
tillery at  Fort  Meyer,  across  the  river  from 
Georgetown,  D.  C.  It  may  well  be  imagined 
that  the  new  service,  consisting  principally  of  drill- 
ing recruits,  would  not  be  much  to  the  taste  of  the 
dashing  young  lieutenant  who  was  now  in  his 
twenty-eighth  year,  full  of  life  and  vigor,  a lover 
of  literature  and  art,  but  above  all  imbued  with 
the  desire  to  write  his  name  by  the  side  of  those  of 
his  brothers,  whose  services  to  their  country  were 


[93] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


worthy  of  a permanent  place  on  the  tablets  of  the 
Nation’s  memory. 

T ransf erred  to  the  Cavalry 

It  was  not  until  he  had  completed  his  twenty- 
ninth  year  that  Howard  obtained  a transfer  to  the 
cavalry,  which  was  then  engaged  in  subduing  In- 
dians, the  only  warlike  enterprise  then  in  opera- 
tion. On  September  7,  1 867,  he  became  second- 
lieutenant  of  troop  F of  the  Third  cavalry,  prob- 
ably with  reasonable  certainty  of  early  promotion, 
for  about  three  months  later  he  received  a commis- 
sion as  first  lieutenant. 

From  the  border  annals,  it  would  appear  that 
thenceforward  he  was  practically  commander  of 
his  troop.  So  closely  identified  was  he  with  it, 
that  what  the  troop  did  was  credited  to  Cushing, 
and  what  Cushing  did  was  the  pride  and  the  boast 
of  the  troop.  In  captivating  the  hearts  of  his  fol- 
lowers, Howard  displayed  a power  and  quality 
of  bravery  much  resembling  that  of  his  brothers. 
Captain  Bourke,  who  served  with  him  as  junior 
lieutenant,  in  the  same  troop,  frankly  stated  in  pri- 
vate conversation  that  Howard  Cushing  was  the 


Howard  B.  Cushing 


I 


FIGHTING  APACHES 


bravest  man  he  ever  saw ; and  repeated  for  empha- 
sis, “I  mean  just  that — the  bravest  man  I ever 
saw.”  In  Bourke’s  volume,11  he  writes  to  like 
effect,  although  not  in  the  identical  language 
above  quoted.  One  among  his  many  allusions  to 
Cushing  is  given  in  the  “Appreciations”  preceding 
the  present  narrative;  but  there  are  others,  ex- 
pressed with  nearly  as  strong  emphasis — for  in- 
stance, a list  of  the  able  and  gallant  officers  who 
had  helped  clear  Arizona  of  Apaches  is  recited, 
with  the  conclusion:  “They  were  all  good  men 
and  true,  but  if  there  were  any  choice  among  them 
I am  sure  that  the  verdict,  if  left  to  those  soldiers 
themselves,  would  be  in  favor  of  Cushing.”  In 
a burst  of  indignation,  after  speaking  of  the  lieu- 
tenant’s “determination,  coolness  and  energy, 
which  had  made  his  name  famous  all  over  the 
southwestern  border,”  Bourke  adds:  “There  is  an 
alley  named  after  him  in  Tucson,  and  there  is,  or 
was  when  last  I saw  it,  a tumble-down,  worm- 
eaten  board  to  mark  his  grave,  and  that  was  all  to 

"John  G.  Bourke,  On  the  Border  with  Crook  (N.  Y., 

1891). 


[95  1 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

show  where  the  great  American  nation  had  de- 
posited the  remains  of  one  of  its  bravest.’ ’ 

Cushing’s  first  cavalry  service  of  distinction  was 
in  western  Texas,  from  which  he  drove  the  sav- 
ages in  1 869.  The  next  spring,  after  a cruel  mas- 
sacre by  the  Indians  of  a party  of  thirty  white  men 
and  women  on  their  way  to  work  at  a private 
ranch,  he  was  selected  to  head  an  expedition  for 
the  punishment  of  the  murderers.  Patiently 
searching  for  every  indication  of  the  trails  of  the 
Indians,  he  found  their  camp  one  night,  and  the 
following  morning  surprised  and  destroyed  them, 
almost  to  the  last  man.  They  were  said  to  have 
the  more  easily  succumbed  to  the  attack,  from  hav- 
ing drunk  a quantity  of  patent  medicines  taken 
from  the  baggage  of  their  earlier  victims.  This 
stuff  was  composed  mostly  of  what  the  distillers 
call  “high  wines,”  containing  a large  percentage 
of  crude  alcohol. 

On  returning  to  Camp  Grant  the  troop  rested 
for  a short  time,  and  then  started  on  an  extended 
expedition  touching  the  Sierra  Apache  and  Mes- 
quite Springs — losing  only  one  man,  the  black- 
smith, in  the  course  of  the  trip,  and  inflicting  no 

[96] 


APACHE  DEPREDATIONS 


great  injury  on  the  Indians.  Other  expeditions 
followed,  about  as  fruitless;  but  towards  the  end 
of  summer  the  headquarters  were  moved  fifty-five 
miles  west  to  Tucson,  which  had  not  then  ac- 
quired fame  as  a mining  centre.  It  was,  however, 
noted  as  being  the  capital  of  Arizona  and  one  of 
the  dirtiest  of  little  Spanish-American  towns. 
The  camp  was  on  the  eastern  border  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  the  Apaches  were  in  the  habit  of  com- 
ing up  to  its  close  neighborhood  to  steal  and  drive 
away  live  stock.  Even  after  the  arrival  of  Cush- 
ing’s troop,  the  savages  had  shown  strong  tenden- 
cies towards  mischief,  seriously  wounding  one  of 
his  men.  Later  they  simultaneously  attacked 
wagon  trains  and  widely-separated  settlements, 
thus  confusing  the  calculations  of  our  officers.  As 
a crowning  exploit  they  carried  away  a herd  of 
cattle  from  Tucson  itself,  and  followed  that 
achievement  by  the  killing  of  a stage-mail  rider 
and  the  massacre  of  a party  of  Mexicans  on  their 
way  to  Sonora. 

During  the  time  when  these  events  occurred,, 
Cushing  kept  his  troop  hard  at  work  and  extir- 
pated many  of  the  hostile  Indians — how  many,  is 
*7  [97] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 

not  stated  in  any  work  of  which  I have  knowledge. 
Cochise,  chief  of  the  Chiricahua  clan  of  Apaches 
(and  predecessor  of  Geronimo),  finally  came  in- 
to camp  as  winter  drew  nigh,  and  claimed  that  he 
wanted  peace  and  a resting-place  on  the  reser- 
vation. He  had  already  been  fighting  the  white 
people  for  fourteen  years,  and  had  tried  every 
trick  upon  his  enemies  save  this.  Cushing  vainly 
protested  against  coddling  the  wily  chief  during 
cold  weather,  to  suffer  from  his  depredations  when 
warmth  should  again  prevail.  Cochise  was  taken 
-care  of  all  winter,  and  before  May,  1871,  was  on 
the  warpath  with  Cushing  close  after  him.  On 
May  5th  the  lieutenant  was  at  the  head  of  a recon- 
noitering  party  of  twenty- two  men  at  Bear 
Springs,  in  the  Whetstone  Mountains,  about  fifty 
miles  southeasterly  from  Tucson,  and  twenty-five 
southwesterly  from  the  site  of  the  present  town  of 
Benson. 

i9flj  no  gfiBoixoiv!  jo  v jj jsq  b io  stobssbiti  orll  orrs 

Death  of  the  Y oung  Cavalryman 

Cushing  was  riding  at  the  head  of  the  party 
with  three  soldiers  and  a citizen  or  two  near  him, 
when  Sergeant  John  Mott  saw  movements  of  some 

[98] 


HOWARDS  DEATH 


Apaches  who  were  trying  to  get  to  the  rear  of  the 
detachment.  He  sent  word  to  the  lieutenant,  in- 
ducing him  to  fall  back,  although  already  engaged 
with  an  ambush  of  Cochise’s  followers  m front. 
The  latter  had  succeeded  in  entirely  surrounding 
the  little  party,  and  Cushing,  with  four  at  his  side, 
were  all  slain  before  they  could  get  back  to  the 
rest  of  their  party. 

Sylvester  Maury,  a graduate  of  West  Point — 
pioneer  miner,  and  author  of  a classic  of  modem 
Arizona,  entitled  Arizona  and  Sonora — in  a 
letter  to  the  New  York  Herald  shortly  after  Cush- 
ing’s death,  boldly  charged  the  catastrophe  to  the 
foolish  policy  then  prevailing,  of  dealing  with  the 
Indians  of  the  Southwest.  Under  this  policy,  the 
ravages  of  the  enemy  were  promoted  by  feeding 
them  up  well  during  any  intervals  when  they 
might  feel  like  taking  a rest  from  assassination  and 
plunder.  He  added: 

Now  we  have  the  result.  There  is  not  a hostile  tribe 
in  Arizona  or  New  Mexico,  that  will  not  celebrate  the 
killing  of  Cushing  as  a great  triumph.  He  was  a beau 
sabreur,  an  unrelenting  fighter;  and  although  the  Indians 
have  got  him  at  last,  he  sent  before  him  a long  proces- 


[99] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


sion  of  them  to  open  his  path  to  the  undiscovered  coun- 
try. * * * He  has  left  behind  him.  in  Arizona  a 
name  that  will  not  die  in  this  generation. 

As  a comment  on  the  foregoing,  I need  only  say 
that  in  response  to  my  request,  at  an  Arizona  news- 
paper office  a few  weeks  ago,  for  some  special  in- 
formation regarding  Howard  Cushing,  I was  told 
that  the  writer  had  “never  heard  of  the  party  in- 
quired after.”  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi,  making 
very  rapid  time  in  the  transit,  in  many  of  the  mod- 
em instances.  Nevertheless,  Arizona  has  taken 
enough  care  of  Cochise’s  name  to  attach  it  to  one 
of  her  large  counties. 

Howard  s death  occurred  more  than  three-and- 
a-half  years  before  that  of  William;  but  I fancy 
that  the  acts  and  sayings  of  the  latter  at  the  time 
of  his  brother’s  demise  were  such  as  to  indicate 
something  in  the  nature  of  nervous  affection. 
Mrs.  Bouton  informs  me  that  it  was  difficult  to  dis- 
suade him  from  a project  that  he  had  in  mind,  to 
go  into  the  frontier  service  himself  and  there  take 
vengeance  on  Howard’s  slayers.  On  first  hear- 
ing of  the  fatality  he  had  been  unable  to  refrain 
from  tears,  even  after  reaching  tbe  office  of  a com- 


[ IOO  ] 


WILLIAMS  SORROW 


mercial  bank.  Before  leaving  the  place,  he  wrote 
the  following  letter  to  his  brother  Milton: 

THE  BLACKSTONE  NATIONAL  BANK,  BOSTON, 

May  15  th,  1871. 

My  only  and  very  dear  Brother:  With  a 
heart  full  of  agony  I write  to  you  of  our  terrible  mis- 
fortune. Dear,  brave  “Howie”  is  no  more.  I saw  the 
news  in  the  paper  at  8 a.  m.  in  the  country  this  morning, 
and  hastened  in  to  break  it  to  Mother.  Poor,  dear  little 
Ma!  Her  heart  is  almost  broken.  Oh!  dear  old  fel- 
low— we  are  left  alone  now — the  last  of  four;  and  let  us 
swear  to  stand  by  each  other  and  our  noble  Mother  in 
all  things.  Let  our  old  boyhood  and  vows  come  back 
with  full  force  and  meaning,  and  let  us  cling  together  in 
truest  and  most  unselfish  love  and  friendship.  I long  for 
you,  dear  brother — for  a clasp  of  your  true,  honest  hand, 
and  the  comfort  of  one  glance  into  your  eyes.  How 
much  it  would  comfort  Mother  to  see  you  before  you  go! 
Tomorrow  I take  her  with  me  into  the  Country  where  we 
are  living.  I am  in  delightful  quarters,  and  shall  take 
good  care  of  little  Ma.  God  bless  her!  Kate  [the 
writer’s  wife]  is  like  a real  daughter  to  her;  and  I thank 
Heaven  that  she  was  not  alone  in  Mary’s  absence.  [Re- 
ferring to  the  present  Mrs.  Bouton,  whose  name  was  Mary 
Isabel,  the  “Mary”  having  since  been  dropped  by  her.] 

Dear  old  fellow — we  must  be  doubly  loving  and  atten- 
tive to  little  Ma  now.  Write  often  to  her.  One  thing  is 
certain  of  her  Sons;  they  can  not  be  beaten.  You  can  kill 


[ ioi  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


but  not  conquer  them.  A beautiful  tribute  was  paid  to 
Lon  by  the  General  of  his  brigade  at  the  great  Army  of 
the  Potomac  meeting  here.  He  described  his  wonder- 
ful, superhuman  bravery.  How  he  demanded — white 
with  loss  of  blood — to  go  again  to  the  front.  The  Gen- 
eral said,  “You  have  done  all  that  mortal  can  do;  attend 
now  to  your  wounds.”  Lon  answered,  “No,  I will  fall 
by  my  guns.”  He  selected  Allie  as  the  only  one  to  es- 
pecially eulogize,  God  bless  the  brave  boys!  I can  al- 
most see  their  meeting — the  handclasp  of  two  who  gave 
up  life  for  duty;  and  Father,  joined  by  his  noble  Sons, 
proudly  and  tenderly  embracing  them. 

God  bless  you,  dear  brother!  Don’t  lose  love  for  me. 
We  are  alone  now.  My  tears  are  falling  so  that  I can 
scarcely  see.  Good  bye. 

With  all  his  heart  your  loving  brother 
Tflfid  iesi  Will.” 

v/oH  .?3ys  moy  olni  aortnlg  ono  fo  Jiolmc 

The  story  of  these  noble  sons  of  Wisconsin 
might  properly  be  concluded  with  the  foregoing 
letter;  but  for  the  satisfaction  of  those  who  may 
wish  to  have  a good  idea  of  the  personal  appear- 
ance of  the  young  cavalryman,  I will  add  the  des- 
cription  given  by  Captain  Bourke : 

He  was  about  five  feet  seven  in  height,  spare,  sinewy, 
active  as  a cat;  slightly  stoop-shouldered,  sandy  com- 
plexioned,  keen  gray  or  bluish  gray  eyes,  which  looked 

1 102  ] 


Jca  focfou.  (L  dcuiffou&i?  fo  du-r  ^ 

fofofodfo  cfocuyn^ei  foufo  (ffo  ovd  cl/i^u J /i<.  fotdbLy-  V-' 

H-fo-st^Ce^X.  , ^fo/hCi^l.  C^dC  (Zjdv-i*)  ?*%  ?Z-U  <-*!.(  /‘‘ , 

/foy-uLy^?  6bces(  cXtt*Z&^  $ fojfos^  foe/*.  Jl  ( ' -{  i j 
^d~udfofo^bu  foe  fogyy  — (C/l-U.  /fofocs  ^ ^dfoc^U__ 

(fo  fofoy  ^4v  fofos  (Lvuu  VUl-d  fo  fod&xy, 

4ujU  fotfo  9tfo  db^Sf  U-67-  ffl&oot  dfo  fofofojyfo/ 
fo~tfo-cc£j_ 7 /?yiisc ^ziU'cLfoc  foiry-  fo  (fo(-y?Lyji--r^  <y  fo^-' 
fonl^edt  afo  /foe ^T^uJ-  foivufo- fofofocciy(  (2'ZudfocLy;- 
foex  - fofoz  <,/<X  C,  #<1^-1*  ^Cfc<.^f.^f^~  ^ 

f/ytisThyiyy/  fofoCy/  fo(_  cOxiuM^eJlyL,  - (fodT 7K/01  fois  *y?  (-(pint  - 

&0  ^iCe-cu-  it~  7%u  ^TA'l'iJ-  C 7^4  foleoya^  '-'  A ’ S_  ^><  j^M  ^ " 

(Oou,  (dJc  folL<l~  *}bUyr{ouL  CUbU-  <£-V  - dtfdcuL 

yfoyyu  fod  . Qcfo  fryidjC  ^X-t  ^ /' 

^iMa^ZuL  (jUdl  (LJ  codd  fTLt  fo  *b fo-C-HcdCd./ 

^fozA.  /fold r*tt/KL  Ixyy*  7fo (Leu,  dj/jjr  / 

QjUs  dul^-  ?hjuLtlc<s  fou  duvtciL  (Ufocy^  tfo  fo^k  fy(C<'  £ 

oLufo  ■ <&-ctl  rfofofod  , ^Jtm-LvC  ^ 
rye-tfofojL  'bfoyu?  foifofocOly  tu^d.  fo'yCc(/l  >Co  ^fo>ci&iuu  fouy^ui 
(foU.  rffoe^r  m.  ini,  -fo(Cuuu  fodfofo-  / (0m  / (fo-cuL  fo 


md  t y.i'U.r  t/CMi  Ills? 


Ivr  7i*jl 
-y^eddeocyy  (L) 


»C- 


LyU, 


dfoyu. 


V'L'Z-isiL  - 


foy/. 


-4/1,3 


foefo  <(fo  OlUAy  td^yy^Llfoy  (UJL.  - ■ 

fodfotau  /fo?  Lcutjfo 

lfoforiAyL  Irrctcf  fofyfofofox^ 

^ Trefofo- 


Facsimile  of  part  of  letter  from  William  B.  Cushing  to  his  brother  Mil 
ton;  dated  May  15,  1871 


THE  REWARDS  OF  BRAVERY 

you  through  when  he  spoke  and  gave  a slight  hint  of  the 
determination,  coolness  and  energy  which  had  made  his 

name  famous  all  over  the  southwestern  border. 

p ism  bn£  fSiofiw 

So  long  as  such  men  can  be  produced  in  the  re- 
public, there  is  little  danger  of  its  decline  and  fall. 
Without  such,  or  men  of  stamina  approximating 
to  their  standard,  our  country  would  be  likely  to 
meet  the  fate  of  its  predecessors,  and  become  the 
prey  of  stronger  peoples.  It  would  therefore  be 
foolish  indeed  to  withhold  from  our  fighting  men 
the  honor  and  the  more  substantial  rewards  which 
tend  to  encourage  bravery  and,  when  necessary, 
the  upholding  of  our  national  solidarity  by  force 
of  arms.  To  a considerable  degree  this  is  accom- 
plished by  our  national  pension  system ; but  that  is 
faulty,  in  respect  that  it  makes  no  distinction,  as  to 
the  amount  of  his  quarterly  stipend,  between  a 
four-years’  fighting  soldier  and  a ninety-days’ 
malingerer  in  or  about  hospitals. 

That  it  was  difficult  to  provide  for  advance- 
ment in  the  army,  in  accordance  with  desert,  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  Howard  Cushing  served 
as  a private  soldier  in  the  same  battery  for  twenty 
months.  That  was,  indeed,  keeping  talent  hid- 


[ 103  ] 


THREE  WISCONSIN  CUSHINGS 


den  in  a very  inconspicuous  napkin.  It  may  be 
that  such  bad  fortune  was  unavoidable  on  the 
whole,  and  that  a just  grading  of  pensions  would 
be  still  more  difficult  to  attain  than  logically-just 
promotions  in  the  army.  At  all  events,  it  is  clear 
to  me  that  whatever  does  tend  most  effectually  to 
keep  alive  in  our  citizenship  such  devotion  to  the 
country  as  to  make  men  willing  to  strive  to  the  ut- 
termost and  to  die  for  its  sake,  is  what  ought  to 
be  practised — and  where  possible,  improved. 


[ 104] 


INDEX 


“Adelaide”,  60. 

“Albemarle”,  xiv,  67-80. 

Albemarle  Sound,  68-70. 

Ames,  Gen.  Adelbert,  82. 

Apache  Indians,  86;  in  Arizona,  95-100. 

Arlington,  Alonzo  Cushing  at,  35. 

Armistead,  Gen.  Lewis  A.,  51,  54,  55,  57. 

Battles:  Antietam,  Alonzo  Cushing  at,  55.  Bailey's  Cross 
Roads,  34,  35.  Blackburn's  Ford,  33.  Bull  Run,  33,  34. 
Chancellors  ville,  xii,  42,  43,  45.  Fitzhugh’s  Crossing,  42. 
Fredericksburg,  41,  42.  Gettysburg,  xii,  42-45,  51,  66. 
Hawes's  Shop,  89.  Long  Bridge,  34.  Marye's  Heights,  42. 
Meadow  Bridge,  89.  Mine  Run,  89.  Salem  Heights,  42. 
Spottsylvania  Court  House,  42.  Strawberry  Hill,  89.  Todd’s 
Tavern,  89.  Wilderness,  42.  Yellow  Tavern,  89. 

Bear  Springs  (Ariz.),  98. 

Black  Hawk,  Sauk  leader,  9. 

Bladensburg  (Md.),  90. 

Bourke,  John  G.,  xi,  94-96,  102. 

Bouton,  Isabel  Cushing,  18,  22,  53,  100,  101. 

Brandy  Station  (Va.),  89. 

Brookfield,  13. 

Burnside,  Gen.  Ambrose,  40. 

“Cambridge”,  xiii,  37.  , 

Castleman,  Dr.  A.  L.,  18. 

Centreville  (Va.),  35,  38. 

“Charlotte”,  82. 

Chase,  Salmon  P.,  20. 

Chiricahua  Indians,  98. 

Cochise,  Apache  chief,  98-100. 

“Colorado”,  31. 

“Commodore  Barney”,  62. 

“Commodore  Hull”,  72. 

Couch,  Gen.  Darius  N.,  41. 


INDEX 


Cushing,  Alonzo  H.,  born,  16;  youth,  16-26;  at  West  Point,  26, 
28,  29,  33;  Washington,  32;  Long  Bridge,  35;  Arlington,  35; 
■with  Gen.  Sumner,  38,  39;  McClellan,  39,  40;  at  Fredericks- 
burg, 41,  42;  on  furlough,  41;  at  Fitzhugh’s  Crossing,  42; 
Spottsyl vania  Court  House,  42;  Salem  and  Marye’s  Heights, 
42;  Wilderness,  42;  with  Hooker,  43;  Hancock,  44;  at  Gettys- 
burg, 45-50,  53-57,  77;  death,  50,  102;  personal  appearance, 
32,  56,  85;  record,  xii;  appreciations,  xii,  41,  42,  45,  47,  54- 
57;  facsimile  of  letter,  40;  portrait,  56. 

Cushing,  Howard  B.,  born,  9;  youth,  9-16:  enlisted,  26,  36;  pro- 
moted, 88;  with  Sheridan  in  Virginia,  89;  in  Washington,  90; 
Elmira  (N.  Y.),  91-93;  Fort  Meyer,  93;  joined  cavalry,  94; 
in  Arizona  and  Texas,  95-98;  expedition  against  Cochise,  98; 
killed,  86,  87,  99;  personal  appearance,  102,  103;  record,  xi; 
appreciation,  xi;  facsimile  of  letter,  88;  portrait,  94. 

Cushing,  Kate  L.,  84-87,  101. 

Cushing,  Mary  Barker  Smith,  9-19,  21,  22,  27,  28,  52,  62,  101. 

Cushing,  Mary  Isabel,  18. 

Cushing,  Milton,  9,  10,  24,  27. 

Cushing,  Milton  Buckingham,  5-21. 

Cushing,  Rachel  Buckingham,  4-8,  12,  17;  children  of,  17,  18. 

Cushing,  Walter,  15,  16,  18. 

Cushing,  William  Barker,  born,  17;  youth,  17-26;  at  naval  acad- 
emy, 28,  29;  on  “Minnesota”,  30;  “Colorado”,  31;  “Cam- 
bridge”, 37;  “Perry”,  58;  “Ellis”,  60;  burned  “Adelaide”,  60; 
at  Jacksonville,  60,  61;  on  “Commodore  Barney”,  62-66; 
“Shoboken”,  66,  67;  destroys  “Albemarle”,  69-81;  promotion, 
81;  at  Fort  Fisher,  81-83;  on  “Maumee”,  83;  “Wyoming”,  83; 
death,  84;  personal  appearance,  84-87;  letter  on  Howard's 
death,  101;  record,  xii-xiv;  appreciations,  xiv,  58,  60,  76, 
77,  80,  94,  95,  102,  103;  facsimile  of  letter,  102;  portrait,  86. 

Cushing,  Zattu,  3-5. 

Cushing  family,  in  New  England,  3;  in  New  York,  3-8;  at  Mil- 
waukee, 9-13,  16;  removal  to  Waukesha  County,  12-15;  at 
Chicago,  18-20;  in  Ohio,  20;  at  Fredonia  (N.  Y.),  22,  25,  84. 

Delafield,  , town  named  for,  17,  19. 

Delafield,  Cushings  at,  14-19. 

“Delaware  Farmer”,  31. 

Dousman,  Mrs.  Talbot  C.,  13. 

Early,  Gen.  Jubal,  90,  91. 

East  Troy,  30,  62. 


[io61 


INDEX 


Edwards,  Francis  S.,  26. 

Edwards,  Mary  B.,  30,  37,  60,  62. 

“Ellis”,  60. 

Elmira  (N.  Y.),  Howard  Cushing  at,  91-93. 
Finance,  Continental  currency,  2. 

Fitchburg  (Mass.),  Milton  B.  Cushing  at,  27. 
Flusser,  Com.  Charles  W.,  59,  60,  68. 

Forts:  Fisher,  81.  Meyer,  93.  Totten,  90. 
Franklin,  Gen.  William  B.,  40. 

Franklin  (Va.),  59. 

Fredonia  (N.  Y.),  Cushings  at,  22,  25,  84. 

Frisby,  Russell,  15. 

Fuger,  Sergt.  Frederick,  50,  52-55,  57,  89. 

Gallipolis  (Ohio),  Dr.  Milton  Cushing  at,  21. 

Gaps:  Manassas,  xiii,  44.  Thoroughfare,  44. 
Geronimo,  Apache  chief,  98. 

Hall,  Col.  George  B.,  47. 

Hampton  Roads,  38,  63. 

Hancock,  Gen.  Winfield  S.,  44,  53. 

“Hartford”,  xiii. 

Hawks,  N.  P. , 16. 

Haymarket  (Va.),  44. 

"Hebe”,  67. 

Hooker,  Gen.  Joseph,  40,  43. 

Horton,  Julia  G.,  23,  24. 

Hosmer,  G.  S.,  15. 

Jacksonville  (N.  C.),  60. 

Lakes:  Nagawicka,  14,  17.  Nemahbin,  14,  16,  19. 
12,  14. 

“Lancaster”,  xiii. 

Lee,  Gen.  Robert  E.,  43,  44,  66. 

Lee,  Admiral  S.  P.,  60,  69. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  xiv,  xv,  41,  42,  80. 

McClellan,  Gen.  G-eorgeB.,  35,  39,  40. 

Madison,  12,  13. 

Maryland,  campaign  in,  39,  40. 

Meade,  Gen.  George  G.,  56. 

“Merrimac”,  38,  68. 

Milwaukee,  Cushings  at,  9-13,  16. 

“Minnesota”,  xiii,  30. 

“Monitor”,  38. 


Pewaukee, 


[ 107  ] 


INDEX 


“Monticello”,  xiii,  73. 

Moon,  Corporal  Thomas,  56,  57. 

Mott,  Sergt.  John,  98. 

“Mount  Washington”,  63. 

Nashotah,  Theological  Seminary,  14. 

Naval  Academy,  William  Cushing  at,  27,  30. 

Nemahbin,  Cushings  in,  15. 

New  England,  emigration  to  Wisconsin,  1-4. 

New  York,  Cushings  in,  3-8. 

Norfolk  (Va.),  59,  70. 

“Otsego,”  72. 

Paddock,  George,  15. 

Paddock  family,  13-15. 

“Penobscot”,  xiii. 

“Perry”,  58. 

Pickett,  Gen.  George  E.,  xii,  48,  54,  56. 

Plymouth  (N.  C.),  captured  by  “Albemarle”,  xiv,  68,  69,  71, 
77,  78. 

Porter,  Lieut.  B.  H.,  82. 

Porter,  Adm.  David  D.,  70. 

Potawatomi  Indians,  in  Wisconsin,  9. 

Potomac,  Army  of,  35,  38,  40,  43,  89. 

Prairieville.  See  Waukesha. 

Preston,  S.  W.,  82. 

“Quinneboug”,  xiii. 

Reynolds,  Gen.  John  F. , 44. 

Richmond  (Va.),  39. 

Rivers:  Blackwater,  59.  Bark,  14.  Menomonee,  11,  12.  Mil- 
waukee, 11.  Monocac-y,  43,  90.  Nansemond,  63.  Potomac, 
33,  44,  66.  Rappahannock,  37,  42,  43.  Roanoke,  68,  71. 
Shenandoah,  43. 

Rorty,  James  M.,  46,  50. 

Santiago  de  Cuba,  83. 

“Sassaeuse”,  68. 

Sauk  Indians,  in  Wisconsin,  9. 

Schaff,  Gen.  Morris,  xii,  29. 

“Shamrock”,  71,  73. 

“Shoekokon”,  xiii. 

Sheridan,  Gen.  Philip,  89. 

Smith,  C.  W.,  37. 

Smith,  Commodore  Joseph,  26. 

[ io8] 


INDEX 


“Southfield”,  68,  71,  73. 

“Stag”,  83. 

Stotesbury,  Asst.  Engineer  William,  73. 

Stuart,  Gen.  J.  E.  B.,  44,  89. 

Sumner,  Gen.  Edwin  V. , 38^0. 

Swan,  Paymaster , 71,  72. 

Swansboro  (N.  €.),  60. 

Taneytown  (Md.),  44. 

Tucson  (Ariz.),  Howard  Cushing  at,  95,  97-99. 

“Valley  City”,  73. 

Vicksburg  (Miss.),  Howard  Cushing  at,  36. 
“Virginius”,  83,  84. 

Warley,  Capt.  A.  F.,  79. 

Warren,  Cushings  in,  15. 

Washington  (D.  C.),  Alonzo  Cushing  at,  32. 

Waukesha,  13,  16,  19. 

Waukesha  County,  History,  13. 

Webb,  Gen.  Alexander  S.,  47,  50. 

Western  Branch  (Va.),  63. 

West  Point,  Alonzo  Cushing  entered,  26;  buried  at,  53. 
Wilkeson,  Lieut.  Frank,  92. 

Woodman,  Acting  Master's  Mate  — — , 72,  73. 
Woodruff,  George  A.,  46,  50. 

“Wyoming”,  xiv. 

Yorktown  (Va.),  39. 


[ 109] 


Date  Due 

L.  B.  Cat.  No.  1137 

Duke  University  Libraries 


D00922955W 


